


The Element of Magic

by Fairia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Kidgeange, F/F, F/M, I just want to watch the world burn, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Clone, Slow Burn, Someday, Starts off Klance, Toss some Plance on the pile, Transitions to Kidge, Werewolves, Witches, and I want him to be happy, and how about some, and what if they were in, because Kuron had it rough ok?, but in this case it's his twin brother, but then gonna add
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 72,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairia/pseuds/Fairia
Summary: The Shirogane Pack of Corpus Christi is fairly unusual, as far as packs go (they're not large, not all blood related, not even all wolves), but have been doing fairly well for themselves, despite trouble brewing to the north in the form of a Rogue who has been biting humans and putting the supernatural community at risk of exposure.Katie (Pidge) Holt is a latent mage who is unknowingly introduced to introduced to the local supernatural community when she meets Keith Kogane, who is part of the Shirogane Pack, and Lance Espinosa-McClain, who is a Water Mage. Pidge is on the fringes of the supernatural community, in the beginning stages of a relationship with Keith, when things come to an unexpected flashpoint when she and her brother are attacked by a Rogue during a camping trip and Pidge is thrust into a whole new world that she never knew existed.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 147
Kudos: 74





	1. Steady at the Start

(Steady at the Start)

Katie made her way across campus towards her next class, gripping her backpack strap tightly and trying very hard to not look nervous. It was the first day of the semester, with the hot Texas sun beating down overhead and club sign ups crowding the quad. Quickly, Katie wound her way through the crowd. She needed to pass by the booth where the football team was loitering—there was no getting around it unless she wanted to be late to her next class. Cringing, she hitched up her bag and hoped that she was short enough to be unnoticed in the crowd.

“Hey, Holt!”

Apparently not. Pretending that she hadn’t heard, Katie continued across the quad, using the cover of a gaggle of passing students to turn down the path between two buildings—it would add 90 seconds on to her time, but she should still be able to— 

“I _said,_ ‘Hey Holt!’” A hand clamped down on her shoulder spinning her around towards the voice that had called her earlier.

Katie sighed. “What do you want, Stevenson?”

Michael Stevenson—Mike—frowned down at her. “Is that any way to talk to old friends, _Pidge?_ ”

“We’re not friends, and don’t call me ‘Pidge,’” Katie snapped irritably. Pidge was what her brother called her. Only family and a few close friends were allowed to use the name.

“What do you mean ‘we’re not friends?’” Mike slung a companionable arm over her shoulders, pulling her against his side as Troy and Jake wandered up, ranging around her and effectively blocking off her escape. “We’ve known each other for _years_ , Katie.”

“That doesn’t make us friends.” Pidge scowled as she tried to pull away from the taller boy. Though they were the same age, he had almost a foot on her, as well as the muscles developed from years of dedication to football. “That just means that we went to high school together.”

“And middle school. And elementary school,” Mike agreed, nodding. “We practically grew up together, Katie!”

“And yet, you graduated early and _left_.” Troy sighed. “We were sad, Katie-pie.”

“Oh yeah, real sad,” Katie agreed sardonically. “I’ll bet you were sad every time you had to actually do your own schoolwork.”

“It was pretty aggravating,” Jake said. “We really missed that big brain of yours in calculus.”

“And physics. And biology,” Troy added.

“I almost didn’t make it into this college, even with a scholarship.” Mike finished. “So we’re _really glad_ to see that you’re here.”

“I’ll bet,” Pidge grumbled.

“You doubt our sincerity?” Mike gasped, free hand pressing against his chest dramatically.

“Not to skating by,” Pidge retorted, now squirming earnestly. Mike countered her duck-and-twist by bending his arm, forearm coming up across her throat in a loose hold. “Let me go!”

“We’re prepared to offer you the same deal we had in school,” Mike continued genially, arm tightening in warning, “you help us out with homework, and we don’t make your life hell.”

“Help you out?” Pidge protested, shoving at the taller boy’s side ineffectually. “Don’t you mean let you copy? Or did you just want me to do it for you?”

“Either works,” Troy said.

“We’ve got to keep a 3.0 to maintain our football scholarships,” Jake added. “You’re going to help us do that.”

“It won’t work.” Pidge grunted as Mike swung her in front of himself, hands gripping her elbows and pinning them to her sides. “We don’t have the same classes, and what happens when you get to classes specific for your major? You’re going to have to do your own work then—I won’t be able to do it for you.”

“We’ll worry about that when we get there,” Troy said dismissively. “And you may not be in our classes now, because your giant nerd brain took them last year, but that just means you remember the material enough to get it done quicker.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t,” Mike said warningly. “It didn’t work then. It won’t work now.”

“I’m not doing your work for you,” Pidge snapped. “Do your own damn work.”

“Wrong answer.” Jake scowled.

“Yeah, we _really_ wanted to do this the easy way, _Pidge_ , but if you’re gonna fight us on it—” 

“Let her go.”

Startled, the entire group turned, to where a dark haired boy stood on the deserted sidewalk, hand fisted on his hip as he frowned at them.

“What did you say?” Mike asked, scowling at the newcomer. “I think you need to step along beanpole, this is none of your business.”

“Yeah, and?” The boy scoffed, hand tightening on the strap of his backpack. “I don’t think she likes it either, and three-on-one isn’t very nice, now is it?”

“And what would you know?” Jake took a step forward threateningly. “This is just a nice, casual conversation between old friends.”

“Hm, really?” A dark brow arched as he held up his free hand, revealing his phone. 

_“‘We’re prepared to offer you the same deal we had in school,’”_ Mike’s voice said clearly from the device, _“‘you help us out with homework, and we don’t make your life hell.’”_

Pidge took advantage of Mike’s lax grip to jam her elbow backwards, ignoring his grunt of pain and darting away towards the stranger, easily evading the other boys half-hearted attempts to grab her. Jake took a half-step forward, but the other boy reached out, sweeping Pidge partly behind him as he took a threatening step forward, teeth bared in a snarl that somehow _didn’t_ look ridiculous on his human face.

“Fuck!” Mike swore, face darkening as the other boy. “Get him.”

“Won’t help you.” The stranger stepped backwards, nudging Pidge back as he evaded Troy’s grasp and he slipped his phone into his pocket. “I’ve already sent the video to my friends.”

“Yeah? What the fuck do you want from us then?” All three boys looked ready to commit murder, and Pidge shifted nervously, even as she stepped up next to the boy in solidarity. Granted, she wasn’t much of a fighter, but since he’d stuck his neck out for her, she wasn’t going to let him go in alone.

“Leave her alone.” The boy shrugged, standing still now that the others had stopped moving. “Don’t bug her— _do your own damn work_ —and it doesn’t go any further. You three are on football scholarships? That’s pretty impressive. So don’t fuck it up by being lazy.”

All three boys stared at him, expressions thunderous, before Mike finally nodded.

“Fine,” He said, but the look he shot Pidge promised retribution. She remained standing next to the other boy as they left, bumping them as they passed by to head back to the quad.

“Thanks,” Pidge said, turning to face her savior as her former schoolmates disappeared out of sight. “I appreciate that.”

“Not a problem.” The boy was watching her, grey eyes oddly intent under his long bangs as he frowned thoughtfully. “Where are you headed?”

“Stanley Hall.” Pidge frowned at her watch and firmly told herself that he wasn’t _that_ cute. “I’m only, hell, five minutes late for class. Um, my name is Katie.”

“Keith. I’ll walk you there,” the boy said, gesturing for her to lead the way. “I wouldn’t put it past those idiots to try to circle around and catch you alone again.”

“Oh, they certainly will,” Pidge agreed ruefully, starting off, clutching her backpack strap as he fell into step beside her. “We don’t have any classes together, but they know I’m here, so they’ll be looking for me from now on.”

“Should I send that video to the faculty?” Keith asked as he glanced down at her.

“Not yet.” Pidge bit her lip and told herself that he was just being nice. “They’re lazy, but they’re not stupid, even if they are bullies. They’ll want to heckle me some more, but they’ll also realize that I’m right: this isn’t high school and we don’t have the same classes. Even if they could get me to do their homework, it won’t help them in the long run.”

“I think you’re giving them too much credit,” Keith snorted.

“Maybe.” Pidge shrugged. “Time will tell. But, um, could you send me that video? That way I don’t have to track you down if I do need it.”

“Yeah, sure.” Keith fished his phone back out of his pocket, stepping into an overhang so he wouldn’t have to squint to see the screen. “What’s your number?”

Pidge bit her lip, told herself not to read into the request, and rattled it off, pulling out her own phone when it buzzed. Clicking on the attachment, she skimmed it briefly before turning off her screen and tucking the device away. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” Keith glanced at the door, then back at her, lips curling up shyly. “I mean that. It was, uh, nice meeting you, Katie. Even if the circumstances weren’t the best.”

“Thanks, you too.” Impulsively, Pidge stuck out her hand, grinning when he grasped it. “And...call me Pidge."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Keith turned away from the doors to the building as they closed, watching the girl’s ponytail disappear from view, nose twitching as the girl’s scent faded from the air. Pulling his phone back out, he glanced down at it. Lips pursed, he debated for a minute, then saved the new number in his phone. _Pidge._ Switching over to the messenger app, he hitched his backpack up on his shoulder and started typing as he headed back to where his motorcycle was parked.

**Crankywolf:** I met someone. They smelled weird.

 **Not-Your-Dad:** Congrats?

 **Lancelot:** Maybe they forgot to shower?

 **Crankywolf:** Really? No, not like b.o. weird. They smelled off.

 **Lancelot:** Turn them on. B)

 **Crankywolf:** …

 **Crankywolf:** why do I even like you?

 **Not-Your-Dad:** Lance.

 **Lancelot:** FINE. Killjoys. Did they act off? Or just smell kind of funky?

 **Crankywolf:** I sent you guys a video.

 **Lancelot:** creeper

 **Not-Your-Dad:** WOW. Jerks. I hope you stepped in.

 **Crankywolf:** Yea, the video was to show the admin if I needed it.

 **Lancelot:** Aww, you go hero. <3

 **Lancelot:** Who’s the cutie?

 **Crankywolf:** She said her name was Katie. Didn’t act weird or try to avoid me. Just smelled a little… weird. She didn’t seem to know she did tho?

 **Not-Your-Dad:** Good on you for stepping in Keith. Proud of you.

 **Crankywolf:** Thx, but not the point. I need another nose.

 **Not-Your-Dad:** Do you think it’s something? Maybe it’s just a transient, or a solitary.

 **Crankywolf:** could be? She could be the woo-woo sort, sure. Just wanted to give you a head’s up that something is around.

 **Lancelot:** ‘woo-woo sort?’ Really, Keithy?

 **Not-Your-Dad:** Do you think we need to check it out?

 **Crankywolf:** Fuck you Lance

 **Crankywolf:** idk you’re the alpha

 **Not-Your-Dad:** And, as the Alpha, I’m asking my trusted Beta if they think this merits an investigation.

 **Lancelot:** OoHoo bustin out the Dad Voice

 **Lancelot:** Also B)

 **Crankywolf:** I suppose not? She didn’t seem malicious or anything - just a kid, but the guys said she was a sophomore, so prolly abt our age.

 **Crankywolf** : Anyway, I know her first name, I have her phone number and I know her scent. We can track her if we need to.

 **Not-Your-Dad:** OK then, let’s leave off for now. If we need to we can check her out, otherwise lets focus on other things for now.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Pidge never thought she’d see the cute guy who saved her again… Even though she _did_ technically have his number, she wasn’t the type who assumed that meant he wanted to talk. He’d been a good Samaritan, and then sent her the evidence in case her old bullies kept bothering her. She’d texted back a simple ‘thank you’ to which he replied ‘np’, and that had been that.

“What are you doing on Wednesdays?”

“Hmm?” Pidge turned from the table she was wiping down to stare at her brother, who had just wandered in a few moments ago.

“I said,” Matt repeated around the straw of his iced coffee, “what are you doing on Wednesdays?”

“Matt, you know my schedule as well as I do,” Pidge replied, moving to wipe down the espresso machine. Not that it particularly needed it, but Theresa insisted on running a tight ship, and didn’t like employees lounging around looking bored. No, she wanted them looking busy and productive (she said it increased sales, which Katie wasn’t entirely sure she believed, but she did understand the correlation between keeping busy and an increase in chemicals in the brain, which led to... Ok, no, wait. Nobody needs that tangent.), which wasn’t so hard during peak times, but led to a lot of extra-clean tables during lulls.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know if you had plans for your day off that I wasn’t aware of,” Matt replied.

“You’re being so damn considerate — I don’t trust it.” Pidge turned from cleaning the machine, propping her hands on her hips as she studied her brother intently. “What do you want?”

“Pidge!” Matt staggered back dramatically, free hand coming to rest over his heart as he shot her his best ‘kicked-puppy’ look, “You wound me!”

“Uh-huh. You want a refill on that?” Pidge asked dryly, finger pointing to the nearly empty cup before she held out her hand expectantly. When Matt handed her the cup, she set it down on the counter, keeping her fingers wrapped around it as she smiled at his deadpan stare. “Now, what do you want?”

“You know, Katie-love, it’s like you don’t trust your own brother,” Matt sighed dramatically.

“The last time you asked me about my schedule, I wound up being the DD while you and your friends got blasted and hit on chicks at the bar,” Pidge replied helpfully. “The time before that, I was roped into helping you ‘repair’ things at your work, and dad caught us and yelled at us. The time before _that—”_

“Okay okay, point made,” Matt grumbled. “Stop holding my coffee hostage.”

Satisfied, Pidge turned to begin preparing him a second coffee, as well as one for him to take to their father. (Latte with skim milk, but an extra shot because she loved him.) While she waited, she took a sip from her own cup—regular coffee was free to employees, as long as they didn’t add anything besides cream or sugar in, and kept it in a marked cup with a lid. Turning back to her brother she set both coffees on the counter, keeping her hands on them as she raised an eyebrow.

“I want to take surfing lessons,” Matt admitted.

“You? Why?” Pidge shot an incredulous look at him.

Matt shrugged. “I just...wanted to try something new. And I’d like for you to join me.”

Pidge tapped a finger against the bar as she considered him, before pursing her lips and turning to pick up a drink carrier. She didn’t get the sense that he was lying to her, exactly, but she didn’t think he was being entirely truthful either. She’d just opened her mouth to ask more questions when the bell above the door chimed.

“—And I am telling _you_ , Keithy-boy, if I don’t get some coffee—” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Pidge turned, face already heating at the familiar drawl of the second voice. Keith was coming through the door, being tugged behind another boy about the same age. _Tall, tan_ and _loud_ were Pidge’s first impressions. He let out a loud sigh of exasperation, and dropped Keith’s hand, unlacing their fingers to wave both hands empathetically.

 _“Four hours,_ Keith!” He exclaimed. “That’s how much sleep I got. Don’t recommend _smoothies_ to me on four freaking hours of sleep when I have a morning class and _then_ a five-hour shift!”

He spun with a huff, completely ignoring Keith’s amused stare, to march up to the counter as Pidge slipped her cup onto the shelf beneath and pasted on a smile.

“I need coffee!” He declared, slapping his hands down on the surface for emphasis.

“So I gathered,” Pidge retorted, lips quirking into a smile.

“Hey.” Keith stepped up next to his friend and offered her a nod.

“Hello again.” Pidge smiled at him.

“You know her, man?” Blue eyes slanted towards Keith questioningly.

“Video,” Keith grunted.

Matt blinked. Pidge blinked, then flushed as Lance spun to face her, eyes wide.

“You’re Katie!” He gasped.

Pidge shrugged. “I am.”

“What video?” Matt asked.

Keith and his friend both looked at Matt with questioning gazes. Keith nudged his friend as the other boy started to open his mouth, gaze sliding back towards Katie questioningly.

“Mike, Jake and Troy enrolled at my university,” Pidge said dryly, drumming her fingers on the countertop irritably. Lucky that it was slow, she thought. Matt usually tried to come in between rushes so he could chat for a minute; the lunch rush wasn’t due to kick up for another twenty.

Matt scowled. “Did those little assholes pester you again, Katie?”

“They tried,” Pidge gestured towards Keith. “He stopped them. Now they just glare at me across the campus.”

“They’re still harassing you?” Keith asked, expression darkening.

“Nah,” Pidge fussed with the little display next to the cash register absently. “Football is too important to them, and I think they realized how stupid their plan was anyway.”

“Do you even have any classes together?” Matt wondered, swirling his coffee idly.

“Not a single one,” Pidge snorted. “They’re just in the basic freshman courses. But whenever they see me, they do the sneering, scowling thing. And I’m pretty sure they’re telling their buddies… Well, I don’t know what. Hopefully nobody listens to them. Anyway, you wanted coffee?” She asked, turning back to the two boys in front of her.

“Yeah!” The blue-eyed boy grinned. “Load me up! It’s gonna be a long day.”

“And I keep _telling you_ ,” Keith scowled. “you need protein, not just caffeine, for lasting energy.”

“Don’t listen to him; he’s not my mom,” His grin widened at Keith’s grumble. “I want sugar. Lots of sugar. Enough sugar to send a small, third-world country into a diabetic coma.”

Matt threw back his head and laughed. “I like that one! I’m going to remember that.”

The boy turned, beaming, and stuck out his hand. “Lance.”

“Matt,” Matt shook his hand genially, then picked up his coffees and nodded to Keith. “Thanks for saving my sister.”

“Wasn’t much saving,” Keith shrugged. “They just needed a little talking-to.”

“Hmm. Well then, thanks for talking to them.” Matt said, turning to shoot her a smile over his shoulder. “Thanks for the coffee, Pidgeotto. Think about Wednesdays, yeah?”

“Sure thing Matt.” Pidge waved to her brother as he headed out the door before turning back to Lance and Keith, who were back to squabbling over protein versus sugar as a means of getting through the day.

“I think I can offer a compromise,” Pidge piped up, waiting until both boys turned to regard her. “I actually have protein powder here—we have smoothies on the menu, and you can add protein powder to them. How about instead of putting it into a smoothie, I put it in your coffee?”

Lance tilted his head, lips pursed as he considered, before sliding a glance to Keith. “Would that make you happy, _mom?_ ”

“I am not your mother,” Keith snorted. “But...yeah.”

“Damn right you’re not mom; that would be weird,” Lance turned back to Pidge and nodded. “That’d be great, thanks.”

“What do you want?” Pidge asked, fingers poised to type in the order.

“Surprise me, and a chocolate croissant,” Lance said, so decisively that it took a beat before Pidge registered that _surprise me_ wasn’t actually on the menu.

“Surprise me?” She repeated, just to be sure.

“Yeah,” Lance waved his hand. “You know the menu and what tastes good better than me, right? So you pick.”

“I could hate coffee for all you know,” Pidge pointed out.

Lance shook his head. “No you don’t. If you hated coffee, you would be a heathen, and we couldn’t be friends. And we’re going to be friends, so you don’t hate coffee.”

“We’re going to be friends, huh?” Pidge gave up and leaned on the register, amused. “Is he always like this?” she asked Keith.

“He was dropped on his head as a child,” Keith replied, ignoring Lance’s indignant squawk. “And yes.”

“Also, I saw you slip a mug under the counter,” Lance nodded.

“What if that was water?” Pidge asked curiously.

“If you drank only water you wouldn't have an insulated tumbler,” Lance replied.

“Tea?” Keith suggested before Pidge could speak up.

“It’s August in Texas,” Lance sniffed. “If she’s drinking hot tea in this weather, she’s insane.”

“Shiro drinks hot tea,” Keith looked amused.

Lance only rolled his eyes. “My point still stands.”

Pidge leaned against the cash register. “In the interest of wrapping this up before my shift ends, yes, it was coffee. Employees get free hot coffee, and I’ve been here since four a.m.”

“When does your shift end?” Lance grinned.

Pidge quirked an eyebrow at him. “Hot or cold?”

“That’s not a time,” Lance grumbled.

“No, it’s not,” Pidge agreed cheerfully, and Keith sniggered.

Lance sighed. “Cold.”

“Iced or blended?”

“Ummm… dealer’s choice.”

“Fruity or coffee-ish?”

“Coffee-ish, don’t be a heathen.”

Pidge hummed and stabbed a few buttons on the register. “And you, Keith? What do you want?”

Keith blinked. “Umm… I’ll just do an iced coffee.”

“Any flavors, sugar or creamer?” Pidge asked.

Keith shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m not a big sweets person, but I like flavors.”

“You want protein, too?” At Keith’s negative response, Pidge nodded. “Alright. Four dollars and fifty-seven cents.”

Lance pulled a crumpled five out of his pocket. Pidge took the money, handed him his change and receipt, then turned to make their drinks.

“So, what’s on Wednesdays?” Lance asked, leaning against the counter and looking around while Pidge worked.

“Surfing lessons, apparently,” Pidge replied, sliding Keith’s drink over. “And considering that neither my brother nor I are athletic in any sense of the word, that should be hilarious.”

“Oh yeah?” Lance swiped Keith’s drink, turning so the other boy couldn’t snatch it back as he stole a sip. “Why does he want to take surfing lessons then?”

“Hell if I know,” Pidge raised her voice to be heard over the blender. “Either he’s researching something, or he’s on a health kick and wants to get into shape, or he thinks the instructor is hot and wants to hit on them.”

“So why is he making you go?” Keith asked, stealing his cup back from Lance.

“Probably so he doesn’t have to suffer alone,” Pidge replied, sliding a lid on Lance’s cup and holding it out. “Ah!”

“Sorry about that,” Lance shook his hand where the static shock had slid over his fingertips. He brought his hand towards his chest, fingers doing some weird maneuver that looked almost like a signal. Pidge blinked, wondering if he was in a gang or...maybe it was ASL?

“No problem,” she shrugged, deciding that whatever it was had nothing to do with her, “thanks for stopping in.”

“You should do self-defense,” Keith said abruptly.

“Uh…” Pidge glanced at Lance, who looked just as confused as she felt. “Okay?”

Lance snorted. “Gonna need a bit more context there, buddy.”

“Oh!” Keith’s cheeks tinged pink, his brows furrowing. “You said your brother might be on some kind of get-in-shape kick, and I was thinking that self-defense was a practical way to do that, and… yeah.”

“Are you saying surfing isn’t?” Lance cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Well, _no,_ ” Keith gestured at Pidge, “but she already had those guys harassing her, so next time she could just, you know, _toss them on their asses_ instead.”

“Or you’re trying to drum up business for Ryou,” Lance added.

Keith scowled. “You know as well as I do that Ryou doesn’t need help finding students. But he does Judo and Kenpo, and Judo is all about joints and using your opponent's weight against them, which is perfect for smaller people.”

“And her brother wasn’t much bigger than she is,” Lance hummed thoughtfully.

“Don’t ever let Matt hear you say that—he’s six inches taller than I am, and thirty pounds heavier,” Pidge pointed out, snickering. “And he would be really offended if I tossed him on his ass.”

Lance grinned. “Six inches taller than you is still six inches shorter than me. And isn’t it your prerogative as his little sister to offend him? I mean, I piss off my older sister every chance I get.”

“And she tosses you on your ass every chance _she_ gets, as well,” Keith added.

“You are _not_ a foot taller than me,” Pidge huffed.

“Oh yeah?” Lance tilted his head back and grinned down his nose at her. “You sure about that?”

Pidge narrowed her eyes. “If I wasn’t at work, we could take off our shoes and go toe-to-toe.”

“Careful Lance,” Keith said sardonically. “I have a feeling that she would kick your knees out to prove her point.”

“I totally would,” Pidge agreed.

“Oh-ho!” Lance chortled. “You think you’re tough stuff? Fine. Give me a piece of paper.”

Pidge’s brow furrowed and she glanced at Keith for clarification. Keith rolled his eyes and fished out his wallet.

“You know what he meant?” she asked him as Lance snagged a pen from next to the register.

“I can take a guess,” Keith rolled his eyes, pulling out a business card and handing it to Lance.

Lance bent over the counter, scribbling on the back of the card. “I’m usually there Thursday evenings — the six p.m. class. Bring your brother and we can see who’s taller. If you’re lucky, Veronica will show you how to toss him on his ass. No charge.”

Pidge picked up the card, studying it and humming noncommittally. “Maybe. I have classes at three, and I have to see when Matt gets off of work.”

“Whatever,” Lance shrugged. “It might not be as cool as surfing, but the instructor is hot.”

Pidge laughed. “Well, you probably have Matt’s vote!”

Lance picked up his cup and grinned. “Surfing is still awesome though, and you should totally do both if you can.” He paused. “Is the Wednesday class over at Port Aransas?”

“Um, yeah, I think,” Pidge shrugged and struggled to remember what Matt had mentioned about it. “Maybe?”

“Lance,” Keith gestured towards the door. “Time.”

“If it is, that instructor is _also_ hot,” Lance grinned, turning and heading towards the door.

Keith nodded to her. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Pidge grinned and slipped the card into her pocket. “Thanks for stopping in.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
  


“So,” Lance began as he buckled himself into the passenger seat, “smell something you like?”

“Tell me what you got,” Keith pressed his key into the ignition and started the jeep.

Lance’s sardonic grin told Keith he wasn’t getting off that easy. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“You are such a child,” Keith grumbled. “Drink your coffee.”

“Quite the coincidence,” Lance mused, “showing up at the same coffee shop your little ‘weird-smell witch’ works at.”

“You saying she’s a witch?” Keith frowned at Lance. “And it actually _was_ a coincidence — you were the one bitching about coffee since you stayed up all night.”

“And you just happened to choose this one?”

“It was the closest one after you got done _whining_ ,” Keith snapped. “It was either coffee or I toss you out of the jeep.”

“And instead we find your little friend _and_ get free coffee out of it,” Lance said smugly, leaning to pull the crumpled up receipt out of his pocket and waving it under Keith’s nose. Keith grabbed it, shooting him a confused look as he flattened it out across the steering wheel. 

Lance leaned back, propping his feet on the dashboard as he waited for Keith to notice. He grinned when he saw Keith blink, reading with his own eyes what Lance had noticed in the store. Katie hadn’t charged Keith for his drink, and had also given Lance a ten percent discount.

“Maybe you should save damsels in distress more often,” he teased, “since I apparently get rewarded by proxy for your heroic acts.”

“Just tell me what you got,” Keith rolled his eyes, huffing like that would disguise the way he blushed. “Seriously. I watched the little thing you did with the cup — what did you get?”

“She’s got a spark,” Lance shrugged, deciding he’d tortured Keith enough for now. “She might be a witch, or she might just have some latent power, but there was a definite buzz. Not so much with the brother, though.”

“She and her brother both had that same scent, though,” Keith tapped the wheel anxiously. “Human, but not? It’s just a trace, so I can’t be sure.”

“Did she have the paranormal pheromones going, though?” Lance asked.

“The woo-woo smell?” Keith rolled his eyes. “Just enough to tingle—if she’s using magic, I can’t get a good whiff of it.”

“She made you _tingle,_ ” Lance tilted his head towards Keith, wagging his brows expressively.

“Oh my God, stop,” Keith groaned. “Besides, you were doing some ‘tingling’ of your own, inviting her to the _pack dojo_ and all.”

“Um, I only asked for a piece of paper,” Lance corrected him. “I was going to write down my height and my phone number. _You_ were the one who was all ‘you should take self-defense lessons’ and whipped out your brother’s business card,” Lance pointed out smugly, watching Keith’s face go up in flames.

“Yeah, well, _you_ told her to come take a class with her brother,” Keith choked out, abruptly reaching to shove Lance’s feet off the dashboard.

“Because Shiro and Ryou do free lessons,” Lance shrugged, pulling his feet down obligingly (he’d only done it to piss Keith off) and slurping his drink. “And Veronica won’t forget to tone it down for them. But if they do show up, everyone can get a whiff of them, feel them out and decide what or if anything needs to be done. And if _you_ show up, you can impress your little spitfire by flexing your muscles and brooding or something."

Keith choked. “She’s not—” 

“I may not have the nose, but I’ve got my own talents,” Lance interjected mildly. “There’s some definite mutual interest going on there. And… you should have some fun, too. Who knows? She may be just what we need.”

“‘We?’” Keith frowned at him thoughtfully.

“Shift starts in fifteen,” Lance swirled his cup idly and stared out at the road. “Drive, wolf-boy.”


	2. The Ties that Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith has a conversation with Ryou (is that a potential plot I see looming?), Hunk gets some knowledge dropped on him, and Sam Holt says "tits."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the poop out of Shiro's poor clone in canon VLD, and am a big fan of the _Parallel by Proxy_ series by VelkynKarma. Kuron/Ryou was dealt such a crap hand, and I love fix-it fics where they make it better. And since a clone was kind of out of range for my story, I made him Shiro's twin brother instead. 
> 
> Also, Hunk is the best.

“Hey Ryou, what’s up?” Keith asked, slouching into the small office and flopping back into a nearby chair, dumping his duffle bag on the floor next to him.

“Not much.” Ryou reached up to rub at his forehead as he leaned back in his office chair. Both men winced when it creaked loudly. “Just got off the phone with Kolivan—mom says to call her, by the way—there was another attack.”

_ “Another _ one?” Keith leaned forward, frowning. “Where at?”

“Marshall,” Ryou replied. “About a hundred miles northeast of Houston.”

“That’s pretty firmly in Marmora territory,” Keith mused.

“They’re getting ballsy,” Ryou agreed, leaning over to open the office mini fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. He held it up with one hand, eyebrow raised.

“How’s the person they attacked?” Keith nodded, deftly catching the bottle and twisting off the cap.

“One alive, one dead,” Ryou said, sighing. “Cops got there before Shane did, so it was classified as a mountain lion attack.”

“Could it have been a mountain lion attack?” Keith asked curiously. They did happen from time to time, but even if it wasn’t a mundane attack, it was still possible the creature wasn’t a werewolf.

“Not a regular one,” Ryou answered sardonically. “And the wounds matched the victim in Tyler a few months back.”

“Shit,” Keith hissed, grimacing. That meant that the victim—if they survived—would be a werewolf. And the local Alpha, Eli Shane, would have  _ a lot _ of explaining to do.

Kolivan, Keith’s home Alpha, had only had to deal with it a few times that Keith could recall, but it was never a pretty situation. Sometimes the bite was administered by accident, or to save a life, and even under those relatively benign circumstances you could never predict how the person would react. The best circumstance was that they accepted it and became part of the pack; the worst was that they became bitter and antagonistic and had to be put down lest they expose the supernatural community.  _ Usually _ the reactions fell somewhere in the middle: there were a lot of explanations, some apologies and possibly therapy as everyone came to grips with what had happened. And then the person was given the choice of submitting and becoming a pack Beta, or forgoing pack bonds and becoming an Omega.

Marshall was in Eli Shane’s territory. The rogue who had attacked a group of hikers a month or two before had never been caught. Keith had heard Shiro speculating about what that might mean, but hadn’t really thought much of it. So long as they stayed away from his pack, it wasn’t his business. But this new attack was  _ south _ , not north towards the Ozarks or west towards Dallas.

“Did Alpha Shane call Kolivan for backup?” Keith asked, replacing the cap and setting it on the floor next to his foot.

“Feeling it out, I think,” Ryou mused, straightening up and wincing as it creaked again. “I have  _ got _ to fix that,” he grumbled.

“Seriously. Or just kill it. That thing is like, as old as I am.” Keith grimaced.

“You’re exaggerating,” Ryou scoffed. “It’s only half your age.”

“That’s still about a decade,” Keith pointed out. “So, why was Kolivan calling? Just to give you a head’s up?”

“Pretty much,” Ryou nodded. “An FYI, as it were, but he doubts they’ll be getting this far. Shane is out for blood now, and Krolia is putting the Houston packs on the alert, too. Speaking of…”

“I spoke to mom last weekend.” Keith rolled his eyes. 

“Alright, alright, duty discharged,” Ryou laughed. “But Kolivan was saying that if the rogue is caught before the next moon, we should meet up at the border for the run.”

“That’ll be nice.” Keith nodded. Running with his home pack was always fun, especially when the full moon fell on a weekend and he didn’t have to try to drag himself to school or work the day after.

“It’ll be a Friday, so remember to tell your boy toy to clear his schedule,” Ryou added. 

“You say it like I’m the one toying with him,” Keith grumbled.

“Are you saying you  _ aren’t? _ ” Ryou slanted him a disbelieving look. “Because you smell like him.”

“Not in the way that name implies,” Keith shot back. “I smell like him because I spilled my drink and stole his spare shirt out of the jeep. And tell him yourself: he’ll be here in an hour after class ends.”

Lance was a popular teacher. He was personable and had the highest safety record for classes, which Keith knew was only  _ partly _ because of his particular skill set. Lance’s very nature was empathic and engaging; he knew how to catch people’s attention, and hold it, and keep them listening in spite of themselves. Which led to whatever courses he taught being in high demand with students, while his safety record meant he was a favorite with their supervisors as well.

People found Lance fascinating, which he was. Keith was fascinated by him all the time, when he wasn’t being an idiot. And...he was actually pretty fascinating then, provided his lunacy was the funny sort. 

Speaking of lunacy…

“Hey, um, did we get any new people in class lately?” Keith asked, leaning over to grab his water bottle as he tried for a casual air. He absolutely did not care if Katie— _ Pidge _ —had taken Lance up on his offer of a free self-defense lesson. He did not care at all if Veronica could teach her to throw her brother on his butt, or to see her try to knock Lance down for being taller, or hear if those numbskulls from campus were still giving her dirty looks across the quad. He did not care if she smelled like ozone and coffee grinds and something faintly metallic, or wonder if those scents would increase with physical activity, and he did not want to see what she would look like, triumphant and chest heaving with exertion, when she succeeded. 

Nope, he did not care at all. He was just a concerned citizen, following up on is impromptu good Samaritan act, and wondered if she had happened to stop by for a class at all. It was pretty rare that he gave out the dojo’s business cards, after all.

“Um, we had another kid sign on for Hunk’s morning class, why?” Ryou gave him a curious look as Keith fiddled with the cap of his water bottle.

“No reason,” Keith muttered, knowing his own heartbeat was betraying him and hoping Ryou wouldn’t call him on it.

Ryou’s eyes narrowed. “Liar.”

“Shuddup,” Keith’s voice was dangerously close to a whine, “aren’t you supposed to be the nice twin?”

“Since when?” Ryou’s grin was sharp. “Is this about the card you handed out last week to that kid from campus?”

“No.” Ryou just snorted in amusement, and Keith pursed his lips. “Fine. Yes. Lance told her to bring her brother in so Veronica could show her how to throw him. I was just curious.”

“If you were just curious, you wouldn’t have made such a big deal about being nonchalant.” Ryou leaned forward and propped his chin on his fist as he smirked at Keith over the desk. “Is he cute?”

“Who?” Keith asked, blinking in confusion. Hadn’t they established the person he helped was a girl?

“The bro... _ ohhh _ .” Ryou’s eyebrows shot up, then lowered suggestively. “So it was the  _ girl _ who caught your eye this time.”

“No it wasn’t,” Keith muttered into his water bottle, just to be contrary. He was lying and Ryou damn well knew it, the jerk. Why did he put up with this abuse? “Maybe she caught  _ Lance’s _ eye, ever think of that?”

“Everyone catches Lance’s eye,” Ryou rolled his own. “But you’re the only person who’s ever kept it, and you’ve never overtly encouraged his other...relationships. Which means somebody caught  _ your _ eye this time, and that’s pretty damn rare, so now I’m hoping she does come in.”

“I don’t discourage Lance from dating,” Keith frowned. 

“No, and he doesn’t discourage you from dating either,” Ryou soothed, smirk softening into a small smile, eyes glinting in sympathy. “And I’m not saying you do, so stop glaring. But there’s a difference between not standing in the way, and encouraging them to go.”

Well, that was true enough. Keith sighed and capped his water bottle, tucking it into a side pocket and standing up. “I’m going to go get ready for class and start setting up.”

Ryou’s eyebrow kicked up, but he nodded anyway. “Go on. And...don’t worry. It’s only been a few days; I’m sure they’ll come in.”

“Like I care, anyway,” Keith tossed over his shoulder, ignoring Ryou’s snort as he quit the room.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Altea Books wasn’t her usual haunt. Anything Pidge wanted to find out, she could find online, but her Rover project had stalled out ( _ again _ ), and she needed some fresh air before her shift at the coffee shop. Since she wasn’t actually a vampire like Matt claimed, Pidge had decided a bit of a walk before her shift was exactly what she needed to clear her head, and since it was right around lunch time, maybe something to eat as well. With that in mind—as well as her mother’s assertions that the cafe was definitely worth checking out—Pidge pushed open the door to the bookstore and stepped inside, shivering reflexively as the tingle of the air conditioner washed over her.

“Welcome to Altea Books!” Pidge paused to glance around, looking for the voice. Off to the side, two women stood near the cash register. As she looked that way, one waved at her. Pidge automatically offered a wave back, privately goggling at her flowing silver hair (was it dyed?) and deep tan before continuing on her way, looking for the cafe her mother told her was on the second floor.

A crash and a muffled curse stopped her, and Pidge paused, glancing over a low wall to see a large young man sitting on the floor, surrounded by books and glaring at an empty shelf.

“You alright?” She asked, already making her way towards the break in the wall towards him. Idly, she tucked a lock of hair that had fallen loose behind her ear as she peered at the larger boy.

“Hm?” His head swiveled to face her, brow furrowing momentarily. “Oh, oh yeah, I’m good. Just needed to be reminded that gravity is still the law and all.”

“Indeed,” Pidge nodded, rounding the wall and stepping into what was apparently a kid’s corner, “what goes up must come down.”

“But did it have to come down on my head?” the guy complained, but he was smiling at her as she knelt down next to him to start stacking books.

“Looks like you got some knowledge dropped on you,” Pidge replied, deadpan, then grinned when he burst out laughing.

“That’s a good one!” He chortled, shifting a few books to hold out his hand. “Hunk.”

“Pidge,” Pidge didn’t know why she automatically offered the other boy her nickname—it just felt  _ right _ , with him. “Do I...know you from somewhere?”

Hunk’s head cocked as he studied her, huffing out a short breath through his nose. “Yeah, you’re familiar to me, too. Do you attend college around here?”

“Yeah,” Pidge blinked. People normally didn’t peg her for a college student; when they said sophomore, they normally meant in  _ high school _ . “I’m going to A&M for computers.”

“That’s it!” Hunk snapped his fingers and grinned. “You’re in my Monday robotics class!”

“Professor Roberts, yeah.” Pidge nodded, pleased to have placed him. “What do you think of the course so far?”

“Well, we just had our second class this week, so I’m not sure, but seems okay so far.” Hunk shrugged. “Honestly, I can’t wait to get to the section on prosthetics, as morbid as that kinda sounds? I actually know a guy with a robotic prosthetic, so I’m hoping he’ll let me get at it and examine it for my report.”

“Ohh.” Pidge was instantly jealous. Her planned report was on her personal Rover project if she couldn’t find anything better, but an actual robotic prosthetic?  _ So cool. _ “My dad works with a guy who has a robotic prosthetic, but I don’t know him  _ nearly _ well enough to ask him to poke around his arm. I’ve only met the guy, like, once. And that was at a company picnic a few years back. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“Aw, man, that sucks. But don’t feel too bad. My friend may not even let me near his arm, either. He’s pretty protective of it.” Hunk sighed, rising and turning towards the shelf. “He can probably give me an interview and some specs on it, but I don’t think he’d want me actually opening it to peek around.”

Pidge could only nod as she handed him books to shelve. It made sense. Even if there’d been a lot of scientific advances on them in recent years, robotic prosthetics were still extremely complex pieces of equipment that weren’t easy or cheap to replace. She didn’t know how good Hunk was, exactly, but she doubted that anybody would willingly let a second-year engineering student take apart something so valuable and integral to their everyday life.

“But, uh, hey, what are you doing here?” Hunk asked, glancing at her as he studied the books in his arms and shifted one off to the side. “Can I help you find anything, or were you just making sure I didn’t have a concussion?”

“Just the cafe.” Pidge glanced at the books he was setting on the table. She couldn’t really see any rhyme to the titles. Was he looking to purchase them perhaps? “I needed something to eat before my shift, and my mom said the cafe here was good. What are you doing? Do you work here or something?”

“The cafe  _ is _ good.” Hunk grinned at her in obvious pride. “My mom runs it, and I help out now and again. Today’s sandwich is a caprese panini with balsamic chicken; we got the basil fresh, and it’s amazing.”

“I’ll have to try it,” Pidge replied. “But what are you doing down here? Picking up a little light reading?”

“Ha! Light reading — those did not feel light when they hit my head,” Hunk laughed. “No, I was looking for some books for the storytime that Allura has a few days a week. My karate kids like to tell me some of their favorites—or their moms do, at any rate—so I help keep new ones circulating for Allura to introduce.”

“Yeah? Sounds cool.” Pidge picked up a book about a little boy going to space in a blue robotic lion. “My brother and I would have loved something like this when we were kids.”

“So you were a space kid then?” Hunk grinned. “Dude, ditto. Space robots were the best.”

“Better if they told me how the robots worked.” Pidge grinned back. “Matt always wanted to know about aliens though; probably because he is one.”

“Aw, man, you’re right; there are definitely not enough books explaining robots to kids.” Hunk pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Maybe Allura could do something like that — she usually has a craft to go with the story, making a robot would be fun.”

Katie tried to picture a bunch of preschoolers with wires and soldering equipment and paused. “Uhh… Don’t they need to know their colors and stuff first before you have them making circuit boards?”

“What?” Hunk looked perplexed, the look quickly morphing to anxiety. “Um, no, nothing like- dude, they can’t even program —  _ oh my gosh _ . I can just see some of those kids trying to — no, they would  _ blow this place up _ .”

“Explosion at local bookstore: story time goes awry when soldering irons get involved.” Pidge sketched the words in the air and Hunk choked.

“Oh, man, Allura might actually love that,” He gasped, giggling. “Better to just stick to pipe cleaners and googly eyes. I was thinking of going crazy and trying to convince her to spray paint some toilet paper rolls silver.”

“Might work better than giving them circuit boards and wire cutters.” Pidge nodded.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“So, I hope you know where your bathing suit is.” Matt grinned at her across the table as he shoveled another bite of pork chops into his mouth.

“What?” Pidge left off pushing her green beans around her plate to glance up at her brother. 

“And make sure it’s a one-piece.” Matt jabbed his fork at her, frowning severely. “I don’t want the top flying off and anybody getting a show.”

“Okay,” Pidge set down her fork and glared at her brother across the table, holding up a finger for emphasis, “one, you’re assuming I have anything to show. You’ve done the laundry, you know this isn’t the case.”

“B cups are small, but they’re still boobs and I don’t want other people seeing them.” Matt sniffed.

“Two,” Pidge rolled her eyes, and held up a second finger, “my tits and people who see them are not your business.”

“I beg to differ,” Sam interjected, setting his plate on the table and pulling out his chair. “Matt, keep up the good work.”

“Three,” Pidge frowned at her father, “you’re not making any sense. What the heck do I need a bathing suit for and why are you worried about the top coming off anyway?”

“What’s going on in here?” Colleen asked, coming in from the kitchen with her own plate and a basket of bread.

“Apparently we’re discussing Katie’s breasts and why her bathing suit top matters,” Sam Holt said succinctly, grinning at his wife. Pidge dropped her head into her hands with a groan.

“ _ Daaad, _ ” she whined, “don’t  _ say _ things like that; it’s weird."

“What, ‘breasts?’” Sam asked innocently, “Or did you mean ‘boobs?’ Because you said ‘tits’, too.”

Matt sniggered. “Dad said ‘tits.’”

Pidge gagged. “Either of you saying any of those words is unnatural, and mine are certainly not your business. And the topic was  _ why I need a bathing suit. _ ”

“Don’t worry, Katie, B’s are perfectly respectable.” Her mother patted her shoulder soothingly as she sat down in her own seat. Pidge’s lips pursed as her mother’s lips twitched. “Especially for somebody as small as you are. Though it might help if you didn’t wear sports bras all the time?”

“Why is this my life?” Pidge asked the ceiling, ignoring her brother’s chortling and the grin her dad was trying to hide in his water glass. “And why do I need a bathing suit?"

“Oh, that’s easy,” Matt replied, scooping up a piece of bread and the butter knife, “because I signed us up for surfing lessons.”

“What? Why?” Pidge dropped her gaze from the ceiling to stare at him. 

“I asked you to go with me, remember?” Matt asked, slathering butter on his piece of bread. “Last week? Coffee shop?”

“Thanks for making mine with skim milk, Katie, I appreciate that,” Sam added, rolling his eyes.

“Just looking out for your health, dad,” Pidge shot back, before turning back to Matt. “Okay, yes, I remember.”

“You never answered me,” Matt said.

“I’ve been busy?” Pidge gestured expansively. “Work in the mornings, class in the afternoon, homework at night?”

“Right.” Matt snorted. “Because those 102 classes are keeping you  _ so _ occupied.”

“I still have to attend the course and do the reading and homework to pass!” Pidge protested. “Just because it isn’t a struggle doesn’t mean I don’t have to focus and do the work.”

“Okay, simmer down,” Sam interrupted. “Matt, you’re not being fair to Katie. Katie, just admit you forgot.”

Matt and Pidge both sighed. “I know you have to do the work, and that it takes time and effort, Pidge.”

“I did forget; sorry Matt,” Katie apologized, smiling a little at the use of the familiar nickname.

“So, you signed her up for surf lessons anyway?” Colleen asked.

“Both of us. I already knew Pidgey has Wednesday afternoons free, and there’s lessons down at the beach,” Matt explained.

“And so she needs to dig out her bathing suit.” Sam nodded. “The one-piece, because she’ll be falling off the board and into waves.”

“Exactly,” Matt said, pleased that somebody understood.

“Why did you want to take lessons, anyway?” Pidge grumbled. She wasn’t adverse to the lessons, really. Clearly she wasn’t paying for them, since she was already signed up, and her parents had been bugging her to get out of her room and find something else to do. Personally, Pidge rather thought that Rover was a perfectly acceptable past-time, and as long as her grades were good and she held down her job, they didn’t need to complain about her social life, or lack thereof.

“I’d been thinking about it for a while, but between graduate classes and work, I didn’t have time.” Matt shrugged. “But... I guess, I just needed a diversion? Something else to do? And this is the last beginners class before fall hits.”

“‘Fall’ is relative in Texas,” Pidge quipped. “So, what, this is a ‘get-in-shape’ kick? Or do you just want to impress some girls? Because, let me tell you, you’re about five shades too pale to pull off the ‘outdoor guy’ vibe, and with a whole lot less muscles.”

“Can’t I just want to spend time with my sister?” Matt asked rhetorically.

Pidge chewed her food and stared at him. 

“Let’s go with the ‘get in shape’ option then.” Matt rolled his eyes. “With a ‘work is eating my soul’ addendum and a tertiary comment of ‘if the nerd who works in dad's office can be buff, I have no excuse.’”

“There you go, was that so hard?” Pidge scoffed. “We’ll pick you up some protein powder tomorrow.”

“Shut it, you,” Matt retorted, frowning. “Just find your bathing suit.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard. I just need to remember which drawer it’s in.”

“Bottom left,” Colleen said, then shrugged when her daughter stared at her. “I needed to fill out a load, so I grabbed some laundry from your room.”

“Oh,” Pidge replied, for lack of a better response. “Thanks mom.”

“But that does remind me...” Colleen hummed, leaning over to reach into her pocket. “I found this in your jeans. Were you wanting to take karate?”

“Hmm?” Pidge took the business card from her mother and glanced at it. “Oh. No? This was from a customer at work.”

“Was it those guys who were in last week?” Matt craned his neck to try to get a look. “And what’s written on the back?”

Pidge flipped the card over and snorted. 5’11” was scrawled on the back in smeared blue ink.

“Yeah, apparently Keith’s brother owns a dojo,” Pidge said, grinning as she remembered the rest of the conversation. Pulling out her phone, Pidge swiped open the calendar and glanced at it, grinning. “And you’re busy on Thursday.”

“I’m doing what now?” Matt frowned as his own phone buzzed in notification and pulled it out of his pocket. “Pidge…”

“Phones away at the table,” Colleen chastised. “And I don’t think self-defense lessons are a bad idea. You said a customer gave that to you Katie?”

“Keith,” Pidge said, nodding. “He and his friend stopped in for coffee last week. Matt met them.”

“I did,” Matt confirmed. “Apparently Katie’s old friends from high school are enrolled at C-three.”

“The Corpus Christi campus? What does that have to do with—” Sam paused and frowned at his daughter. “Are they giving you trouble again, Katherine?”

Pidge winced—she hated it when he pulled out her complete first name, it never boded well. “They tried to. Keith stopped them.”

“Apparently he took a video of it,” Matt added. 

“Not— Not like that.” Katie frowned at Matt before turning to reassure her parents. “He caught them on video trying to threaten me into doing their classwork for them, and told them that if they didn’t leave me be, he’d send it to the administration.”

“That’s clever,” Sam murmured, looking pleased. “Do you even have any classes with those boys, Katie?”

“Nope,” Pidge replied, relieved that she’d been relegated back to ‘Katie’ again. “And even if I did, doing their work wouldn’t do them any good—they’d just be in worse shape when they got to the higher courses that I don’t have any information on. I think they were just panicking because they got to college and realized that they couldn’t charm their way through classes by being jocks.”

“About time,” Matt snorted. 

“I bet the course load gave them a fright, too,” Colleen added, smirking.

“And to think it’s only freshman year,” Katie quipped. “But, yeah — more work, due more often, and they’re riding on scholarships that have  _ requirements _ . They’re scared.”

“ _ Good _ ,” Matt said vindictively. 

“Not that I approve of them, but they had standards to remain on the football team in high school as well,” Sam interjected mildly.

“Which makes me wonder who they terrorized once I left,” Pidge snorted.

“This was last week, you said?” Colleen asked.

“Almost two weeks ago now—right at the start of term.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam asked, frowning.

Pidge shrugged, uncomfortable. She didn’t want to admit that their stalking her around campus the first week had scared her—that she was having flashbacks to high school, where she had been too young and frightened to speak up, worried about being ostracized from her peers and looked down on by the faculty. Time, distance, and several frank discussions with her parents and Matt had enabled her to realize that her tormentors hadn’t ever been as omnipotent as they’d seemed, and that high school really wasn’t the end of the world. Despite all of that, before they had forced the issue she had preferred to simply not think about it, rather than deal with it. 

“It didn’t seem like a big deal,” Pidge muttered at last. “All they were doing was glaring and a bit of cat-calling. They hadn’t actually come after me.”

“Well, then I’m very glad Keith stepped in,” Colleen said. “And you’ll tell us right away if they try to hassle you again?”

“Yes.” Pidge nodded. 

“Your word, Katie,” Her father said gently. “If something, or someone, is bothering you, you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

“I promise.” Pidge smiled a little.

“Good.” Her dad nodded. “Now, this… Keith? He gave you a business card?”

“Yeah.” Pidge tapped it against the table. “Well, he handed it to Lance, and Lance gave it to me.”

“And Lance is…?” Colleen asked leadingly. 

“His friend.” Katie lifted the card, showing her mom the smeared ink on the back. “Apparently Ryou—the instructor I’m guessing?—teaches judo, which Lance said might work better because I’m small.”

“And that information is…” Her mother squinted at the numbers. “How tall he is?”

“He said he was a foot taller than me.” Pidge smirked. “Taking off shoes was threatened.”

“If he knew about how bad your feet smell, he would know what a threat that actually is,” Matt teased.

“Brat!” Pidge gasped, snatching up a slice of bread and lobbing it at her brother. “That is  _ not true  _ — my feet smell like roses! You’re the one with stinky feet!”

“Your shoes beg to differ, Pidge,” Matt grinned unrepentantly, catching the bread and setting it on his plate. “So… he was cute.”

“Who was?” Pide’s brow furrowed. 

“Lance,” Matt replied. “Though Keith is apparently the one trying to get your attention; giving you free karate classes and all.”

“Us.” Pidge smirked. “Lance and Keith offered  _ us _ a free lesson — something about learning to throw you on your ass. Which is what we’re doing Thursday. Thanks for signing me up for surf without my permission, here’s your reward  _ brother. _ ”

Matt groaned, but didn’t argue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm going to put on my Bad Mom hat for just a hot second, just in case I've got any school-aged people reading: _school doesn't last forever._ It has an expiration date. And I know by now we've all heard the platitudes for bullying where it's zero tolerance and tell a teacher and that's all good advice so I'm not going to repeat it, but let me offer you this as well: _The best revenge is a life well lived._


	3. The Advent of Adam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A new character steps onto the scene...

“Where is Lance?”

Keith turned to blink at Shiro, who was leaning against the counter, steaming mug by his elbow.

“He’s normally here on Wednesdays,” Shiro continued as Keith snagged a mug out of the cupboard and made his way to the coffee pot that was still (thankfully) half-full. “It...is Wednesday, isn’t it?”

Keith raised the mug to his lips, ignoring the heat on his tongue as he considered letting Shiro sweat it out a while longer.

“Yeah, it is.” At almost-seven, Keith didn’t have it in him to taunt his brother. Not when Shiro was already reaching for his phone to check the date for himself. “Did you just now notice he wasn’t here?”

“Well, it  _ was _ awfully quiet on our run this morning,” Shiro mused.

“I’ve always wondered if you could run in your sleep,” Keith muttered.

Everybody in the pack pretty much got suckered into working out whether they liked it or not. It was a holdover routine from the Marmora Pack in the same manner that martial arts was. Kolivan insisted that every pack member be able to defend themselves in their human skin, and while he couldn’t technically enforce that in the sub-packs he supervised, he absolutely could with his immediate family. While Shiro wasn’t as militant about it as his foster-uncle was, pretty much everybody worked out in some manner.

Keith didn’t mind. He had spent his entire life doing it, after all, so getting up with Shiro to go for a run in the mornings was actually relaxing; a good way to wake up and get ready to face the day. If Lance were staying over, he would join them, and while he was pretty good for a human, he simply didn’t have their natural advantages. Ryou would go to the gym and lift in the mornings, but preferred running in the evenings to wind down before bed.

“Excuse me?” Shiro snorted. “You had to stop to put your shoes on the right feet.”

“I was putting them on in the dark!” Keith protested. “I was lucky to have two of the same shoe!”

“That would have been even better.” Shiro grinned.

Keith’s lips twitched. “And Lance has a paper due today. He spent most of yesterday in the library.”

“He doesn’t have your book bag or anything, does he?” Shiro frowned. “I know you sometimes leave it in the jeep.”

Keith winced. “He does, but luckily my tablet was in my duffel. Today is just a lecture, so I can still take notes, and I’ll see him down at the shore today so I can grab my books then.”

“You don’t have any classes you need them for, do you?” Shiro asked skeptically.

“Not today.” Keith shook his head. “I have a paper due next week, but that’s all on my jump drive so I’m set. He’ll probably be a little early anyway — his new beginner’s surf class is starting today, so he’ll have to get out boards and wax and stuff.”

“Wax on, wax off,” Shiro joked.

“Pretty much,” Keith agreed. “What about you?”

“I’m at the office all day today,” Shiro answered. “One of the plans for a building downtown got tweaked the other night, and we’ve been collecting data from a new sector to see if the changes are legal or if we have to get different permits. Sam wants to go over that, and there’s a new guy coming in from Colorado, so we’re supposed to meet them, too.”

“Sounds exciting.” Keith yawned as he rinsed out his mug and set it in the drainer. “Alright, I’m off; have a good day at work.”

“You too.” Shiro nodded, sipping his tea as he watched Keith palm the keys for his bike and head out the door. Shiro gave Keith a few minutes to get together and get his bike out of the drive before setting his mug in the sink and going hunting for his shoes and keys. Swiping his lunch out of the fridge, Shiro grabbed his own keys and headed out the door, frowning as the circuits in his prosthetic arm whirred a bit when he turned the doorknob.

Sam Holt was already in the office squinting at printouts when Shiro wandered in, water bottle by his elbow and empty mug on the corner of his desk.

“No coffee today?” Shiro asked, setting his lunch in the mini fridge and pulling out the chair to his desk. 

“No Matt today to bring it to me,” Sam said ruefully. 

Matt was Sam Holt’s son, who was working towards a master’s in xenobiology and was splitting his time between classes and working at a few different labs in the meantime. He did come in from time to time, usually with coffee that he’d pestered his sister for. 

Katie, Sam’s daughter, was also in college for something related to computers. Shiro vaguely recalled meeting her a few years ago...maybe. Or possibly he’d just seen the picture Sam had of the four of them so often that between the photo and how much Sam talked about her he just  _ felt _ like he knew her.

“So, what’s going on today?” Shiro asked, pulling his ID card out of it’s little plastic sleeve and sticking it in the reader next to the keyboard. 

“Adam will be by in just a little bit,” Sam explained. “His office is down the way.”

“Is that the transfer from Colorado?” Shiro asked, glancing through a few emails. Company policy… who took my lunch… volunteers needed…

“Yes; he came highly recommended. Mr. Young hired him a few months back, but he had to give notice and wrap up a few projects before he could transfer down.” Sam paused, tapping on his own keyboard for a moment. “Adam got here...oh, last week, I think? He was doing some house hunting and getting set up.”

“Oh, alright.” Shiro nodded. “He’s the new construction manager for the government and corporate design office?”

“Numbers guru.” Sam said pleasantly. “He’s… Oh, here he is; he can tell you himself.”

Shiro knew that — he had heard the footsteps down the hall, had heard the shuffle of papers and rub of denim and the creak of sneakers. But all of that was secondary to the  _ smell _ . It wafted in, a roll of pheromones that drifted in on air currents and had Shiro on his feet even before the man breached the door frame, still staring down at the notes in his hands.

He wasn’t an especially tall or broad man. Trim in a way that suggested healthy diet and regular exercise, but not bulky like Shiro or lean like Lance. Tan from heritage rather than exposure to the sun, with neat brown hair and peculiar, half-rimmed glasses. Really, he looked like almost anyone you would pass on the street. 

Except he was an Alpha.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Lance’s jeep was already sitting in the port parking lot when Keith pulled his bike into the empty space next to it. Kicking the stand down, Keith shut off the engine and pulled his helmet off, tucking it under his arm as he dismounted to go peer into the back of Lance’s bright blue jeep. 

Lance had warned him that he wouldn’t be over yesterday, and Keith had forgotten the backpack that was probably lodged somewhere under the back seat by this point. If he didn’t get it now, he’d have to wait and hope Lance was early to class tomorrow so Keith didn’t have to rush to change into his gi. Even though Shiro hadn’t said anything about it that morning, Keith knew his pseudo-brother would disapprove if he’d remembered that even though he kept his insurance and registration in his wallet, his bike tools and emergency kit were in his backpack. Coincidentally, so was his wallet. 

Shiro had really taken Kolivan’s lessons to heart.

However, when Keith looked in, he couldn’t see the backpack on the floor. Frowning, Keith put his foot on the tire and hauled himself up, leaning over the support beam to try and see up under the seat. Still, no backpack. Keith finally leaned back with a sigh; if Lance had taken it into his house, then Keith was going to have to go to his house to find it, or try to sweet-talk Lance into showing up early. Which wasn’t a problem — Keith hadn’t seen Mrs. McClain in a while, and he’d probably get fed while he was there, but he also had homework to finish up and a paper to write for next Monday. 

Keith was wondering what he would have to trade to get Lance to show up to class early tomorrow when a voice spoke up behind him.

“Hey!” barked an angry-sounding voice loudly. “What the hell are you doing to that car?” 

Keith twisted to regard the voice with raised eyebrows and a deadpan stare.

“Oh, good,” he said, turning and jumping down off the wheel well, “you brought it.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “How come you’re never surprised? Like, ever? Really, it’s disappointing.”

“You’d be more disappointed if I faked it,” Keith replied, holding out his hand for the bag.

“Well, I mean, in some situations, sure.” Lance hummed, ignoring Keith’s outstretched hand as he considered. “Like in bed—don’t fake it there, that’s just bad manners unless it’s with someone who isn’t me, because then I don’t care what you—”

“Lance,” Keith interrupted, “my bag?”

“But for this?” Lance whined, shifting so Keith couldn’t grab the strap. “Can’t you let me win once in a while? Just jump a little. A tiny scream. It would be great.”

“If you want someone to cater to your ego, go find one of your other lovers,” Keith snorted. “Can I have my bag now?”

“Mm, no.” Lance twisted out of Keith’s reach, circling around as Keith twisted to keep him in sight.

“I will tackle you, don’t think I won’t.” Keith growled, but the threat was half-assed and they both knew it. Lance was fast, and training with the pack had made sure that he was able to evade them if he really wanted to, but neither of them were trying to hurt the other. This was...play.

“Oh, I know you can,” Lance said lightly, dancing back. “But I need a favor. Payment for taking such good care of your bag. I mean, you left your wallet in it…”

“Why were you rooting around in my bag?” Keith asked, exasperated. 

“I needed a pencil, and you practically horde them in the front pocket,” Lance replied.

“Thief,” Keith growled, unoffended.

“Of your heart.” Lance winked cheekily. “Now, about my payment…”

“What do you want?” Keith folded his arms and stared at Lance, trying to look unamused.

“Two things.” Lance held up two fingers helpfully. “First, I need to get the boards out of storage—”

Keith groaned.

“—and make sure they’re ready for class.” Lance continued on blithely, backing towards the jeep. “Second, I want a thank-you kiss. A  _ good _ one, not some stupid little peck.”

Keith pretended to ponder that for a moment before sighing. “Fine...deal.”

“No need to sound so put-upon,” Lance pouted, leaning back against the side of the jeep, but his eyes gleamed.

“You made me help you wax those stupid boards,” Keith pointed out, stepping towards him.

“At the beginning of summer!”

“And you’ll make me help you take the wax  _ off _ in a few months, too,” Keith said firmly.

“Duh.” Lance rolled his eyes. He’d suckered Keith into it last year, too, with the promise of burritos and sloppy kisses in the shed.

“I’m going to demand a blow job this time,” Keith warned him, stepping in close.

“Man, getting bossy considering I still have your T-square there, pal.” Lance huffed.

“You love it,” Keith sneered, leaning in and pressing against the other boy, rubbing his cheek against him and feeling his mouth stretch into a smile as he buried his nose against Lance’s neck. His scent was still there, stronger than Shiro’s or Ryou’s or Hunk’s but still fainter than he preferred. Lance gripped his hips, pulling him closer and rubbing his cheek along Keith’s jaw in return.

Not that it did anything for Lance. Scent didn’t mean the same thing to humans as it did to most wereanimals, but Lance had been amongst the pack for so long that scenting people was almost as automatic to him as it was to them. Keith wasn’t given to overt public displays and sometimes had a hard time asking for touch even if he knew he needed it. Luckily, Lance had very little concept of personal space and was well-known for it.

And Keith  _ loved _ it — loved having a partner who knew and understood his need for tactile contact and let him rub against them and would return the favor in a hundred innocuous displays meant to leave their scent on each other. A hand on his neck or shoulder, casually brushing their arms together or tangling their fingers without Keith having to ask. And even if Lance couldn’t smell Keith on him, or himself on Keith, he knew it was important to the other boy and would find a reason to allow Keith to scent him when they’d been apart for a while. 

Lance ran his hands up his arms, long fingers tracing across his shoulders, wrists dragging over his neck as he cupped his face, pushing Keith back from his neck to grin at him.

“My kiss, wolf-boy,” he murmured, and Keith happily complied, leaning forward to capture Lance’s mouth, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down before sucking to soothe the faint sting. Lance tilted his head, opening his mouth to Keith as he leaned more fully against the side panel of the jeep, back arching because of the bookbag he was still wearing.

The kiss wasn’t long, but that didn’t make it less passionate as Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s shoulders and pulled him close, or as Keith gripped Lance’s hips to align them fully. He didn’t resist when Keith pulled back—sooner than Lance might have preferred, but he knew that PDAs weren’t Keith’s thing—instead tilting his head to rest their foreheads together and grin at one another.

“How long until class starts?” Keith asked breathlessly.

“Thirty minutes,” Lance replied. “But since it’s the first one, students will start arriving in about twenty. Come on, chop chop.”

“I need to go in and figure out what station I’m at, too.” Keith warned, stepping back and accepting the bookbag Lance handed over.

“Station one today. Go drop your things in your locker and I’ll meet you at the shed.”

Keith made his way inside the Port Aransas administrative building, bypassing the front desk with a nod to the customer service rep as he made his way back towards the locker room. He paused to lean into the office, catching Kasey’s attention and waving to let her know he was in the building.

“Lance already let me know,” she called, waving him off as he stepped towards her desk. “I’ve got you signed in — just dump your stuff and help him get supplies out to the shed.”

The locker room was quiet. There was a bit of time before the other lifeguards would be showing up and getting their shift briefing before heading out to their stations, and most of the other jobs were still on shift. Keith jiggled his keys, shaking them around until his little locker key was in his hand, already considering what else he needed to do before work started. He’d left the house without grabbing anything, but now that he had his wallet back, he could probably hit up the vending machines in the lobby if he was quick enough… 

Keith popped open his locker, hand already raised to shove his backpack in when something on the top shelf caught his eye. Reaching in, he hung up his backpack before pulling down the insulated tote. Inside was a chicken wrap from his favorite fast-food chain, a package of chips, and a can of soda, all kept helpfully cool by an ice pack resting in the bottom. Keith grinned: best not-boyfriend ever.

Lance was piling boards up outside the shed, muttering to himself, when Keith caught up with him. Grabbing him by the shoulders, Keith spun him around and planted a big kiss on his lips.

Lance laughed. “Found your lunch then?”

“Yes; thank you.” Keith grinned. “How did you know I was hungry?”

“Well, you’re always hungry, so it was a safe bet,” Lance said wryly, “But, in this case...wallet, remember? And you were up early to go running with Shiro, so you probably forgot to pack your own lunch.”

“You’re the best,” Keith said, picking up a couple of the boards and hoisting them up over his head. “How many are in your class this time?”

“Ten: full roster,” Lance replied. “But two of them already own their own boards.”

They pulled eight boards out of the shed, which were all the same, with only slight differences in length, so it was easy enough to stack them along the wall.

“Any repeats?” Keith asked idly as Lance dug through the supply box checking out leashes while Keith grabbed bars of wax.

“Yeah — four this time.” Lance said distractedly. “Halle really should move up to the next class.”

Keith snorted. He was well-aware of why Halle wasn’t moving to the intermediate class, and it was only partly because she wanted to stay with her friend. “Well, it’s her money, or her parent’s, anyway. It’s not doing any harm for her to stay here.”

“True enough,” Lance replied, but anything else he was going to say was forestalled by the first students arriving, rounding the corner of the building, clearly having been directed there by somebody else. Lance was greeting them, helping them pick out a board, and Keith started to step away as Halle and her friend came around the corner, backing away from the smell of coconut and faint arousal when the wind shifted and caught his attention.

The ozone smell was a scent he usually associated with Lance, though it clung to every magic wielder to some degree and it never failed to tickle his nose. In this case, it was buried under the scent of shampoo and coffee grounds, along with the mineral oil and copper scent that Keith found with machinery (like Shiro’s arm), as well as the undertones of ‘not-quite-human’ and something unique to the individual. Keith was already turning, even as his mind pulled up the name to a scent he knew.

_ Pidge. _

“—so I told him that if he didn’t replace the five-eighty connectors with three-twenties, the whole damn thing was going to be overloaded and blow up,” she was saying, brows furrowed and lips pursed while her brother smiled down at her tolerantly. “But does he listen?  _ Nooo _ , he wants to argue that the five-eighties will work  _ fine _ , because his dumbass replaced the copper wires with insulated copper-aluminum hybrids which will slow the rate of energy transmissions-”

Matt snorted. “Holy crap, how did he get in that class? Any noob should know that hybrid wires—”

“—would  _ double _ the transmission rate! I know!” Pidge waved her arms dramatically.  _ “Thank you _ , somebody with half a damn brain—”

“So, did you let him turn it on?” Matt asked, grinning as he adjusted the drawstring backpack he was holding.

“Are you kidding? Of course I did,” Pidge scoffed, crossing her arms over her plain, emerald-green swimsuit. She grinned sharply. “The teacher was  _ pissed _ , and it was  _ glorious.” _

Keith snorted in amusement, and both siblings turned to stare at him in surprise.

“Keith!” Pidge beamed at him, and Keith found his lips automatically tilting to return the greeting. “What are you doing here?”

Keith raised his eyebrow, gesturing at his stereotypical white lifeguard shirt (complete with corny red cross and the word “lifeguard” emblazoned across the front in block print), but Katie only waved him off.

“I mean, duh, obviously you’re a lifeguard,” she said, “but what are you doing  _ here? _ "

“Helping this guy out.” Keith jerked his thumb over his shoulder, stepping to the side so they could see Lance chatting with a few other students. Halle already had a board under her arm, and was somehow using it to push her cleavage into even more prominence as she leaned towards Lance. Lance, for his part, was probably enjoying the view, but Keith could also see that he was subtly leaning  _ away _ from the overt girl. Hearing Keith’s voice, Lance turned, smile turning more genuine as he spotted Pidge and Matt.

“Hey, you guys made it.” He grinned. “I saw your names on the roster and wondered if it was you.” 

Pidge laughed, propping her hands on her hips, inadvertently elbowing her brother, earning a faint  _ oomph _ and a half-hearted frown that she ignored as she shot Lance a look of tolerant amusement. “No wonder you said the instructor was hot!”

Lance’s teeth gleamed in response as he sniggered. “I am hot like burning.”

“And modest, too,” Pidge noted dryly.

“You should see him when my brother and I drag him running in the morning and he trips over his shoelaces,” Keith snorted. 

“Good thing I have Keith around to keep my ego in check.” Lance rolled his eyes. “Of course, you fell face-first into a mud puddle.”

“That you pushed me into,” Keith shot back.

“You laughed when I tripped!” Lance retorted.

“Of course I did,” Keith snorted. “You’d have done the same.”

“Damn right I would have.” Lance grinned sharply. “Don’t you have a briefing to get to, or something?”

“Ugh, running,” Matt muttered, effecting a shudder.

“Ugh,  _ morning _ .” Pidge shuddered as well.

Keith glanced at his wrist and reluctantly admitted that he  _ did _ need to leave if he was going to get to the briefing on time. 

“Well,” he said, shoving the vague disappointment aside as he turned back to Pidge and Matt, “it was nice seeing you two again.”

“Sure.” Maybe it was just him, but Pidge’s smile dimmed a little too. “I guess I'll see you around then?”

“Sure you will!” Lance piped up cheerfully. “Not only is my boy on duty at station one today—that's the shack right down in front of the station—but the coffee you made me the other day was awesome. I definitely want some more.”

Keith kept a straight face, nodding along genially as he gave Lance the side-eye. True, they’d discussed— _ briefly _ —returning to the coffee shop Pidge worked at, but Keith had been adamant that he didn’t want her to feel like they were pressuring or harassing her. Lance had been non-committal, and made vague noises about caffeine, but there were other coffee shops in between destinations and it wasn’t any big deal to go to one of those instead. At the time Keith had simply thought Lance was annoyed about wanting more of the drink Pidge had made him, but somehow Keith thought he should be reevaluating that idea.

The thought disturbed Keith a little, though exactly why was something he would continue to ponder as he bid the group farewell and headed inside for the briefing. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Lance could admit to himself that he might have come on a little strong in his encouragement of Keith, even if he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why he was even encouraging the normally recalcitrant boy in the first place. It wasn’t like he  _ wanted _ to watch Keith in a relationship with someone else. He has had the distinct displeasure of doing so once or twice over the years, and it had never sat well with him. It wasn’t like they’d lived close to each other for the majority of their childhoods the way he and Hunk had, so it wasn’t like they’d only been each other’s  _ only _ dating experience. There had been a boy in middle school that Keith had dated for a while, some kind of thing with another girl in high school, and a different girl that Keith had taken to junior prom (not even Shiro could talk him into going to senior prom). The obligatory awkward and posed photos of Keith with various dates that Lance couldn’t remember the name of sat as proof on Krolia’s mantle that Keith had been in relationships with other people besides Lance, and it had never bothered Lance before.

Maybe it was because Keith had a  _ type _ . Lance considered the notion as he went through the motions of explaining the basics of picking the right surfboard and handing out wax to each of the students before leading them down to the beach. Keith had always gravitated towards darker personalities; who listened to emo music and discussed the depths of their emo souls while they wore black nail polish and too much eyeliner. Keith went after people who were intense and serious and brooding and abused black hair dye. 

Lance was nothing like Keith’s type, and sometimes Lance wondered if that was half the reason they worked at all. The other half (he would tell anyone who asked) was sheer, pig-headed stubbornness. They  _ wanted _ to work, and so they would, as much as they could, and damn anyone who thought otherwise.

Pidge was not Keith’s type. She was about half a foot too short, with light brown hair that had probably never seen a dye bottle of any type, and a figure that was slender, but too sturdy to have the waif-like build that normally drew Keith’s eye. She smiled too much, didn’t wear any cosmetics that Lance could see, and probably didn’t own any perfume either. She didn’t wear black—well, he reconsidered, watching her fall off the board, only to pop back up laughing before paddling to where the surfboard sat placidly in the water waiting, she was wearing black today. The board shorts she wore over her practical green swimsuit were black, but they also look like they were cast-offs her brother had outgrown. But if she did wear black, it wasn’t in the studied way Keith’s former partners had worn it. She wasn’t creating an image—she was simply wearing clothes. 

And she was a  _ witch.  _ Not a practicing one, obviously. She hadn’t recognized the sign Lance had given her when they’d first met, and Keith said she didn’t have the “woo-woo smell” as strongly as an active practitioner, but the potential was definitely there for her to learn.

So, part of Lance’s actions could be explained by simple curiosity. Keith had gravitated towards somebody he normally wouldn’t notice, who had the potential to be a witch (but probably nobody to teach her), and Lance wanted to know more. Was it just a situational thing? He hadn’t quite  _ saved _ her, but had definitely stepped in as her protector when she was vulnerable, and wolves took that kind of thing seriously. Did he just like how she smelled? (Lance hadn’t been oblivious to the way Keith’s head picked up before either Holt had been in sight or hearing range, though he didn’t think Keith had given it too much thought.) Was it just that he liked her personality? Lance couldn’t blame him—Katie had the sass to keep up with both of them, coupled with the same curiosity as Hunk and a sharp mind.

Another part of Lance’s interest was purely practical. Encouraging her to hang around them would not only allow him to observe Keith, but also to expose her to the Pack and the Coven, and they could assess whether to bring her into the fold or simply allow her to continue on as she was. 

Finally, the piece that Lance didn’t really want to think too hard on was his own self-sabotaging nature. He knew damn well that however much he loved what he and Keith had going on, it wasn’t sustainable in the long run. He’d promised himself (as well as his mother and Shiro) that he would never stand in the way of Keith’s happiness. Keith had been his  _ friend _ long before they were lovers, and Lance had promised that  _ when _ Keith found someone better suited to him that Lance wouldn’t try to force him to stay, or begrudge his choice. Even if Shiro had raised his eyebrows skeptically (probably hearing the  _ thud _ of his heartbeat as he lied through his teeth because he didn’t  _ want _ Keith to find somebody else and leave him), Lance also promised himself that when the time came, those words  _ would _ be the truth.

So, Lance could admit that he was  _ leaning _ on Katie, just a bit, when he mentioned judo/kenpo lessons with Ryou and Veronica at the end of class, and wondered if they would come to class some time.

“We’re planning on going tomorrow, as a matter of fact,” Matt said, surprising Lance by being the one to answer. “Katie insisted it was her revenge for signing her up for surf lessons without telling her first.”

“It’ll be fun,” Lance assured him, grinning. “But, why did you decide to take surfing lessons anyway? Not that I’m complaining that you did, but when Katie mentioned them, she wasn’t sure why you wanted to.”

“I just wanted to spend more time with my baby sister.” Matt’s lips quirked up. “You know, without having a computer screen in the way.”

“Translation—he’s on a health kick and dragged me along to lessen the blow to his ego,” Katie said dryly. “I would have thought it was the ‘flirting with the teacher’ option, but he obviously didn’t know you were the instructor, so…”

“Well, I don’t mind that reason either.” Lance shot Matt and exaggerated wink. “You did good for your first time on a board, and bonus points for knocking your sister off when you thought I wasn’t watching. You can totally flirt with me.”

“Maybe we can conspire to shove her off of surfboards together,” Matt grinned. 

“I don’t know what’s more disgusting; that you two are actually flirting, or that somehow I’m involved.” Pidge made a face, snagging the string bag and turning towards the parking lot. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you plot against me. Matt, come find me when your weird courting rituals are finished.”

Lance threw back his head and laughed as the girl wandered off, tossing an absent wave over her shoulder as she left. 

Yeah, Lance decided, he could kind of see why Keith liked her.


	4. These are the Days

“What are you doing here?” Veronica asked, blinking in surprise when Lance stumbled into the kitchen.

“What do you mean—” Lance paused for a jaw-cracking yawn, “what am I doing here? What are _you_ doing here? I still live here, like, twenty percent of the time. Don’t give me that look, I still have a bed here,” he huffed when his sister raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “That totally counts.”

“I promised mom I’d help with harvesting today. You’re a man of many homes, including mine on paper. So I know you live here, sometimes,” Veronica said, rolling her eyes, “it’s just not something I usually _see._ ”

Lance grumbled but didn’t disagree, turning to the cupboard and pulling down a mug instead. Dumping a generous amount of cream and sugar into the mug, he wandered over to the half-empty coffee carafe, stifling another yawn.

“Public speaking teacher has a die-hard attitude,” he offered his sister, setting the mug into the kitchen island before turning to rummage in the fridge, “totally go big or go home. I didn’t get get out of the library until after eight.” 

“Ohh, is it Richards?” Veronica pursed her lips sympathetically as Lance grabbed a spoon from the drawer and plopped down next to her. “Yeah, he didn't do a lot of impromptu stuff.” 

“It's a fuck ton of writing for a _speech_ class,” Lance complained, digging a spoon into the carton of yogurt. “But I also want to chat with Mom about a spark Keith dug up on campus, and I didn’t get a chance to before she went to bed last night. So I just crashed in my old room.”

“A spark?” Veronica sat up, interested. “How old are they?”

“Dunno.” Lance shrugged. “But she’s a sophomore, so I’d guess about twenty.”

“She?” Veronica raised her eyebrow with a knowing smirk.

“Don’t go there.” Lance jabbed his spoon towards his sister accusingly. “Keith already has dibs.”

Both of Veronica’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. _“Keith_ does?”

“Her name is Katie, and Keith found her being bullied by a couple of jerks she used to go to school with when he was dropping off Hunk’s books a few weeks back,” Lance replied. 

Veronica’s lips pursed. “I...start from the beginning.”

“That is the beginning.” Lance shrugged. “All he really said at the time was that she smelled weird, but we couldn’t tell if she was just a transient who was attending school, or a solitary, or even what exactly she was.”

“And you know she’s a spark...how?” Veronica asked, but Lance paused as his mother wandered into the room.

Estella Espinosa-McClain was the matriarch of the Espinosa Coven, having taken the position over from her own mother some fifteen years back. Even though Corpus Christi wasn’t the largest city in Texas, the Espinosa Coven had been in residence (and growing) for over a century, since Estella’s grandparents had emigrated from Cuba.

“Good morning,” Estella greeted, still bleary-eyed and in her bathrobe, pulling out a chair on the other side of her son and flopped into it before reaching out and swiping Lance’s mug.

“Hey!” Lance protested.

“What are you doing here?” Estella asked, gripping the mug tighter as Lance frowned. “And thank you for my coffee — you’re my favorite son.”

“Luis was your favorite son yesterday,” Lance rolled his eyes. “And _I live here._ At least sometimes. Why don’t you ask Veronica what _she’s_ doing here — she has an apartment!”

“Really?” Estella squinted at him. “I can’t be sure; all I ever see is dirty laundry to mark your presence.”

“He leaves the bed unmade, too,” Veronica added helpfully.

“Yes, and that. Unmade beds and dirty clothes.” Estella nodded, before pursing her lips contemplatively. “And sometimes dirty dishes, but those could be Marcos or Madison too, I suppose.”

“Why are we picking on me?” Lance complained, pouting around his spoon. “I thought I was your favorite?”

“You’re here,” Veronica said, even as his mother shrugged and replied, “Because I can.”

“You people are mean,” Lance grumbled, making grabby hands towards the coffee mug.

“We are, but you love us.” Estella smiled, taking another sip before handing it back. “Now, tell me about this spark you found?”

“Her name is _Katie,_ ” Veronica teased, eyebrows waggling suggestively. 

“Still not like that,” Lance grumbled into his mug before turning to face his mother. “Keith actually found her, but all we really knew was she smelled ‘weird’—we weren’t sure what she was.”

“Okay.” Estella nodded and stole the mug back. “How did you know she was a spark?”

“Keith and I accidentally found out where she works,” Lance replied, holding up his hand and waving his fingers expressively. “She handed me my drink.”

“Hmm.” Estella pursed her lips as Lance pushed back from the table, dumping his yogurt carton into the trash can before taking the mug to the counter for a refill. “What did you get from her?”

“Just that little shock,” Lance replied. “She didn’t get it when I signalled her, Keith said the smell of magic was pretty faint, and she didn’t recognize the undines in class yesterday, so I’d say she’s untrained.”

“‘In class?’” Veronica parroted. “She’s in one of your classes?”

“Yeah—her brother Matt signed them up for my beginner surfboarding classes,” Lance replied as he poured more coffee into the mug. “The undines were there — you know I always keep them close when I have actual _beginners_ in the water — but she didn’t seem to sense them at all.”

“What about the brother?” His mother asked as he handed her the mug before retaking his seat.

“No fizz.” Lance shook his head. “Though Keith says he smells off, too.”

“Strange.” His mother frowned. “It usually runs in families.”

“You know that’s not always the case,” Lance replied.

“Not always, just usually.” His mother nodded. “Tell me more about her. You’ve only seen her at the coffee shop and your surf class?”

“She’s on campus somewhere — my campus, not Keith’s, though he was the one who found her,” Lance replied. “She was being bullied and he stepped in. He got it on video and blackmailed the kids who were messing with her, and escorted her to her class after.”

“So he had ways to track her,” Veronica hummed. “Which is why he didn’t call Shiro.”

“He texted him,” Lance admitted. “But Shiro said pretty much the same thing. Between the number, name and scent, we could track her down if needed, so let it go for now.”

“Keith said he could remember her scent?” Veronica’s eyebrows rose.

Lance shrugged. “I guess between the magic and the weird, it would stick with him.”

“Hm. And what do you think we should do?” His mother asked, swirling the mug idly as she watched him. 

“I don’t know,” Lance admitted. “Keith gave her a free lesson at the dojo, so she and her brother will be there tonight.”

Estella’s lips quirked. “Convenient.”

“Isn’t it?” Lance grinned. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“You set me up.” 

Shiro turned around to find an annoyed construction manager scowling at him.

“With what?” Shiro asked innocently, balancing the roll of blueprints on his hip idly as he reached for his binder. “You mean setting you up with Mister Jones so he could fully understand why his request was unreasonable and untenable? You’re welcome.”

“You knew he’d throw a fit and bend my ear about it,” Adam accused him. “He made me go over my permits and receipts _twice_ before he’d accept them, and I was nearly late to a meeting with the director.”

“That’s not my fault,” Shiro pointed out.

“You could have warned me!” Adam hissed, dropping a stack of papers onto the table of the copy room with a _thud_. 

Shiro watched the flimsy plastic contraption wobble and reflected that he could also probably warn Adam that the table had a trick leg and would collapse if he put his weight on it, but he kept his mouth shut. 

He’d figure it out pretty quick.

“What do you have against me?” Adam demanded, turning his back on the table and glaring at Shiro. 

Shiro, who had been debating the merits of waiting for his copy to finish versus coming back for it later, turned back to him. The printer was loud enough; anyone who wanted to overhear would have to be standing in the doorway to do so.

“What are you doing in my territory?” he asked bluntly.

Adam scowled. “None of your business.”

“It actually _is_ my business,” Shiro retorted. “I’m the Alpha of the Shirogane Pack.”

“The three-legged dog,” Adam murmured, eyes straying to Shiro’s mechanical right arm. Shiro curled his mechanical hand into a fist and _glared._

“You would do well to show respect, _Omega_ ,” Shiro gritted out. Adam’s eyes snapped back up to his, questioning. “You think I didn’t know?” Shiro snorted. “I can sense that you are packless, despite your pretty red eyes. Why are you here?”

“I’m here because I was transferred here,” Adam snarled. “And I have a full lunar cycle to declare myself, so I don’t have to tell you jack shit.”

“But you will,” Shiro said firmly. 

“Are you the Gatekeeper, too?” Adam asked bitterly. 

“Or course not.” Shiro rolled his eyes. “But as a fellow wolf, you don’t get to roam my territory without my consent. Right now you’re just an Omega with Alpha powers skulking around my backyard and flaunting the legalities while wafting your scent under my nose.”

“I’m not here to challenge you. I don’t want your land, or your pack.” Adam rolled his eyes, but there was no uptick in his heartbeat to give lie to his words. “I’m only here, in the literal and figurative sense of the word, to do my damn job. Which would be a lot easier if you weren’t trying to antagonize me.”

“Then go declare yourself, Omega,” Shiro replied evenly, “and perhaps I’ll stop.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Keith exited the building and stood in the sunlight, contemplating his next move. It was Thursday, and he was free for the next few hours, until he had to be to the dojo to help Shiro teach the kids classes. Lance was still in class at the A&M campus about seven miles away, but had his water safety class afterwards before the 6pm adult class. Keith supposed that he could meet him at the marina with lunch, but Lance had spent the night at his house last night, and chances were he’d raided the fridge for leftovers to eat. 

Homework was always another option, Keith mused, heading towards the parking lot where he’d left his bike. Shiro would certainly approve, and Keith had a report for Comp 2 as well as a mock-up of a small business office/warehouse due in the next week. He could head home and get started on (or keep working on) those, but Keith didn’t really feel like dragging himself home only to turn around and have to drive back into town later. Plus, they’d eaten leftovers last night, so there wasn’t a whole lot in the fridge except condiments, the veggies that they bought so they could rot in the produce drawer, and Ryou’s weird yogurt. (Because kale. Really, Shiro?)

Keith shuddered, unlocking his bike while recalling vaguely green-tinged pink smoothies. No, home was out. Who knew what horrors lurked there? Keith shifted his backpack, shrugging to redistribute the weight as evenly as possible as he started the bike and debated what, exactly, he wanted. 

Who was he kidding? He wanted coffee. And, if he was being extra-super honest, he wanted to see Pidge, too.

Sure, he had technically seen her yesterday when she and her brother had arrived for Lance’s class. And, yes, he would see her later today at karate—Matt had told Lance they were planning on coming tonight, and even if Lance didn’t have the same lie-detecting capabilities a werewolf would, he had his own methods for encouraging truthfulness. So unless something changed, Keith would see Pidge (and Matt) at class later on. He didn’t _need_ to hunt her down now, and in fact had actively discouraged Lance from doing the same thing for the past week.

But even if yesterday he could _see_ her, he was still working. His attention had been divided between watching Lance’s class, as well as other beach-goers both on the shore and in the water. He couldn’t really watch her, and couldn’t catch her scent unless the wind blew just right. Hearing was touch-and-go for the same reasons. 

It made him twitchy, and he didn’t know why. And, honestly? It kind of pissed him off. Keith didn’t like feeling _anxious_ , especially when he didn’t even know _why._ And all of this left him with a moral and practical dilemma: if he went to get coffee and saw Pidge, he would be doing the same thing he’d been harping on Lance _not_ to do for the past few days. But he also really wanted coffee, and maybe a panini, and both were at the coffee shop that Pidge worked at.

She might not even be there, he told himself as he backed his bike out of the parking spot and took off. Keith had met her when she was heading to class over at the A&M campus, and the half-overheard conversation with her brother led Keith to believe that she wasn’t just a part-time student. Plus, he could sit _there_ and do his homework. He had his tablet, and could work on the report, study for his other classes. 

Shiro would appreciate a cup of coffee too, Keith was telling himself as he pulled into the parking lot of The Daily Grind. He would grab a cup of coffee and a snack, say hi to Pidge, and then sit and work on schoolwork until he needed to head to the dojo for class. It would be easy. Casual.

Right.

Keith shifted outside the door to the store, then decided he was making a big deal out of nothing and shoved the door open, a casual _hello_ already on his lips.

“Hi, welcome to The Daily Grind,” a young man standing behind the counter greeted brightly.

Keith paused in the doorway, suddenly disconcerted. “Uh, hi.”

“Can I interest you in a iced hazelnut mocha?” The boy plowed on, unfazed by Keith’s sudden awkwardness. “It’s today’s special.”

“Um, sure.” Keith nodded, thrown by the lack of ozone-and-other scent in a place where he expected it to be. “Does, um, Katie still work here?” he asked as he handed over the required notes.

“Katie? Yeah; you just missed her,” the boy—whose name tag read David—replied. He handed Keith back his change. “She works the morning shift, usually.”

“She, uh, she made something for my friend last week.” Keith wasn’t sure why his mouth was still moving—he didn’t owe this guy any kind of explanation. 

“Do you remember what it was?” David asked, turning to begin preparing Keith’s drink.

“I don’t think it was on the menu,” Keith shook his head. “Blended, coffee, protein powder. Probably an extra shot of espresso,” he recounted, recalling the drink Lance had been raving about ever since.

“Ah, a Katie Creation then,” David hummed, dumping espresso into the cup before reaching for the milk.

“‘Katie Creation?’” Keith parroted, eyebrow quirking.

“Yeah. Most of us have little things we’ll do as requested, or for regular customers, or for people we like.” David eyed Keith speculatively, as if wondering which category he fell into. “Or sometimes if someone is having a hard time deciding, you know? So we all have a list of things we can make that aren’t strictly on the menu, but people might still enjoy. Usually they’re based off of seasonal things: snickerdoodle latte is only available from November to March, but that doesn’t mean we don’t know how to make it.”

“Interesting,” Keith said, for lack of a better reply. And, it _was_ interesting. It made sense, but it wasn’t something he’d really thought of before.

“It isn’t something everyone can or will do.” David offered Keith his cup with a smile. “Some people just don’t have the experience to pull it off, or aren’t comfortable with it. But usually the more experienced baristas can. Did you want me to try to replicate what Katie did?”

“Nah, thanks though.” Keith shook his head. “I was thinking my brother might really like it, but I can come in another time.”

“Is your brother meeting you here?” David cocked his head to the side curiously.

“No, I’m going to see him in a few hours,” Keith replied, gesturing towards the tables. “So I was going to study here for a bit. I’ll just order him something else on my way out.”

“Cool.” David nodded as the door chimed and another customer walked in. “Wi-fi password is on the chalkboard, make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Keith offered the other man a nod as he moved towards a corner table, propping his back against the wall so he could watch the comings and goings as he pulled out his tablet and portable keyboard. 

Keith inhaled discreetly as he set up his things, shifting his drink so he wouldn’t accidentally bump it with his elbow. Katie—Pidge—wasn’t here, but the scent of the shop was similar enough that even with the other components missing, he still felt something inside of him relax. Which, ironically, just freaked him out more. He had met the girl _three times_ and should _not_ be searching for her scent like an anxious pup. They did not have that kind of relationship. They did not have _any_ kind of relationship.

 _Yet_ , his traitorous mind whispered. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Keith wandered into the dojo a half hour before class was due to start to find Shiro scowling at the computer screen, his phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder as his banged on the keyboard angrily.

“Yes, I _know_ Kolivan can run him just as easily as you can,” he snapped, “but I’d rather have the information to send to him rather than have him having to run it down himse—oh, I am _not_ a kiss-ass, you little—” 

Ryou then, Keith deduced, hearing the other Shirogane’s voice filtering out of the speaker pressed against Shiro’s ear. Wordlessly, Keith set the coffee—another iced hazelnut latte, but with an extra shot—by Shiro’s monitor. Shiro glanced at the coffee, then at Keith, shooting him a quick smile even as he grimaced at what his twin was saying.

“Because he’s an Alpha, he’s annoying, and he hasn’t declared himself yet,” he explained in response to whatever Ryou had asked. “And since there was already a second Rogue attack up north, I think it’s better safe than sorry.”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up as Shiro passed information on the new Alpha in town to Ryou to be run. “What’s going on?” he asked as Shiro hung up the phone.

“You’re my new favorite brother,” Shiro said, ignoring the condensation rolling down the sides of the cup as he snatched it up.

“Because I brought you coffee, or because I’m not giving you shit for being a suck-up?” Keith asked, grinning.

“Yes.” Shiro shot him a drool look. “You ass.”

Keith threw back his head and laughed, popping his hip against the office desk and grinning down at his Alpha and pseudo-brother. 

“Ryou told you about the Rogue attack up in Woodville a few weeks back?” Shiro asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. Keith glanced at it as well, noting that they had maybe ten minutes to talk before he had to go change and start setting up for class.

“Yeah. He and Kolivan were talking about it.” Keith nodded. “Is Ryou being called in to investigate?”

“Not yet.” Shiro shook his head. “Kolivan is sending a couple of his folks to assist the local Pack. But you know it’s a Rogue Alpha whose biting people, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Keith nodded. 

“Well, an Alpha just showed up at my workplace,” Shiro said dryly.

 _“Seriously?”_ Keith straightened. “Just...showed up? Where’s their Pack?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said, his annoyed expression turning thoughtful. “And… he doesn’t have one, or if he does they’re pretty far gone.” He tapped his nose, frowning. “But I get the feeling he’s packless.”

“So an Omega. Convenient.” Keith frowned, rolling his shoulder in reflexive irritation. 

“And I checked with Allura—he hasn’t declared himself to her or Coran yet, despite having been in the area for two weeks now.” Shiro sneered. “Told me he had a full lunar cycle to do so and I could shove it.”

 _“Really.”_ Keith’s lips pursed over a snarl at the unnamed Omega’s blatant disrespect for his Alpha. “Asshat really knows how to curry favor with the locals.”

“Tell me about it.” Shiro snorted. “So we’ve got a Rogue Alpha running around east Texas biting humans, and an Alpha whose got no pack-scent on him shows up at my workplace.”

“Just...shows up? What is he doing there?” Keith asked, confused. 

“Working, apparently,” Shiro said dryly. “He’s the new construction manager they transferred from Colorado.”

“So why was Ryou giving you crap?” Keith asked, gesturing at the phone now sitting quietly next to the computer. “This seems like a fantastic time to abuse authority.”

“It’s not even abuse—it’s his damn _job,_ ” Shiro grumbled, glaring at the phone like it had personally offended him. “But, um, there _may have_ been a _minor_ altercation in the copy room this afternoon.”

Keith paused to consider the statement, then blinked as a grin spread over his features. “Oh, man, did you get into a pissing contest with him? In public?”

“He snapped at me first!” Shiro frowned. “Accused me of passing a crabby customer onto him on purpose.”

“Did you?” Keith asked, amused.

“Of course I did,” Shiro sniffed. “But it’s also _his job_ —he found the mistake in Jones’ proposed estimations, so he can damn well explain them to the man. I just authorize the changes.”

“This name sounds familiar,” Keith mused. “Why would he be upset that they found a mistake? I mean, from what I’ve heard you ranting before, even a little error means you can wind up looking at the entirely wrong thing. Isn’t that why you guys, like, triple-check things?”

“You’re not wrong,” Shiro smirked. “But neither is Assistant Director Alvarez. Ever. Just ask him, if you ever have a half-hour to spare.”

“...I’d hate you, too,” Keith nodded.

“I had other things to do—the meteorological department is tracking a storm that could set the scope schedule back an entire month.” Shiro shrugged. “So I let him defend his work, instead of me.”

“So he snapped at you, and you snapped back, and now you want Ryou to run him through the system and maybe arrest him,” Keith snorted.

“Wanting him run is totally separate from work,” Shiro pointed out. “I’m adult enough—shut up Keith—to be able to ignore him if there wasn’t already a Rogue running around the state. But that’s happening, and suddenly a packless Alpha just _happens_ to show up in my territory, after terrorizing Shane for the past three months?”

“Not saying you don’t have a good reason,” Keith said placatingly, reaching for his duffel tucked in the corner and unzipping it, “just that the timing is… convenient. Maybe you should have left off the part where you two got into it in the cafeteria.”

“Probably.” Shiro scrubbed his hand over his face and reached for the coffee cup. “But I was just so damn _annoyed._ ”

“And what’s the bit about sucking up to Uncle K?” Keith asked, toeing off his sneakers as he unbuttoned his jeans.

“I just wanted to have my ducks in a row before I passed it on to him,” Shiro explained. “If we run him here and find out that he _couldn’t_ have been in Woodville or Marshall, then we don’t really have reason to suspect he’s our Rogue. Then it’s none of Kolivan’s business and I just have to deal with his sorry attitude.”

Keith cocked his head and considered before pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it on the couch next to his bag. “Makes sense,” He said. “Uncle Kolivan doesn’t like…” He paused, not sure how to describe his uncle and not sound like a jerk.

“Inefficiency,” Shiro supplied.

“This is why you’re the Alpha,” Keith nodded, shoving his jeans down his hips. “You have nice words to say ‘he can’t be bothered with your bullshit.’”

“Not true,” Shiro protested mildly, “he’ll make time for your bullshit if it’s important to you. He just… has a particular skill set.”

Keith snorted. Kolivan’s no-nonsense attitude had served him well as the Head Alpha of the Houston area, and also as a Texas Ranger. But in interpersonal relations? Not so much. “The man is not a diplomat.”

“That’s why he has Uncle Thace.” Shiro nodded, watching Keith kick off his jeans before reaching into his duffle for his gi pants and the Shirogane Dojo shirt that served as the informal uniform. “Um, what are you doing?”

“Getting dressed?” Keith paused, confused. “Class starts in twenty minutes, and I need to get my gear on before then?”

“I mean, why are you doing it in here?” Shiro asked. Puzzled, Keith glanced down at himself. His boxers were older, but they weren’t full of holes or anything. And besides that, he’d been _raised_ with Shiro. Shifting with clothes on was begging to get tangled in them, so nudity wasn't a new concept to either of them.

“I know I am not offending your delicate sensibilities,” Keith said dryly, shirt dangling from one hand as he shot his brother a look.

“Let me rephrase: why are you doing that in here with the blinds open?” Shiro asked, amused, as he pointed behind him.

Keith spun around to see that one of his students had arrived early: her mother was standing next to her, stifling a giggle while her daughter pointed, obviously asking questions. Keith felt the blood draining from his face even as he dove for the blinds, ignoring Shiro’s laughter behind him.

 _“Shit!”_

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

By the time Lance wandered in, Keith’s embarrassment had (mostly) faded. So _of course_ Lance’s first words to him were— 

“So,” Lance swaggered into the room, eyebrow waggling as he grinned, “I hear _red_ is the color of the day today.”

Keith, who _had_ been having a pleasant conversation with Ryou, groaned.

Veronica, who could be just as much of a jerk as her younger brother, also laughed as she trailed behind him. “Which part? His face or his panties?”

“Oh, both, definitely,” Shiro piped up cheerfully. 

“I hate you all,” Keith moaned. “How do you even know about this already?”

A few more students, who had been loitering around waiting for class to start, tittered, having already heard the story of Keith’s earlier mishap. Those who hadn’t were being quickly filled in, if the whispers were anything to go by.

“Well,” Lance drawled smugly, “turns out Mrs. Martian—the one you showed your panties to, you flirt—swung by Altea Books on her way home, to pick up an order. And since Allura wasn’t at the front desk, she went up to the cafe to ask where she might find her.”

Keith already knew where this was going. Sia Garrett and Estella Espinosa-McClain were as thick as thieves. _Of course_ if Ashleigh’s mom had passed on some good gossip, Sia would have immediately passed it along to Estella, who had probably laughed herself silly retelling it to her son. For all that Corpus Christi was a decent-sized city, sometimes it was just _too damn small._

The door up front opened, distracting Keith. Shiro, Ryou and Veronica’s heads all swivelled, scenting the air discreetly before returning to their conversations. A moment later Hunk appeared, sliding his sandals off and stepping inside the room with a short bow.

“Hey guys!” he greeted them, waving as he wandered over. Keith nodded and Lance gined. 

“Hunk!” he exclaimed, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, well, things were slow at the bookstore, and I’m pretty much caught up on my assignments, so I thought I’d drop on in tonight instead of tomorrow,” Hunk said, looking around. “Big class tonight.”

“It’s the usual Thursday crowd,” Keith shrugged. Shiro and Veronica were the teachers for tonight—Ryou was here, but only because it was his lunch break, and was still in uniform, though he’d left his shoes outside the door as custom dictated. Other than that it was Keith, Lance, and perhaps a dozen students. Not the biggest Keith had ever seen it, but much larger than the Friday night class that Hunk favored. 

The room was large, two stories tall and a thirty-by-forty foot rectangle with spongy mats covering the floor and mirrors along the far wall. The back wall was mostly a seperate workout room for smaller classes on the bottom, with a staircase leading to another workout area up top. A hallway separated the class from the office, and lead to the observation area, where parents usually waited while their children attended class.

“Yeah, I can see why the Friday classes are in the upstairs,” Hunk hummed, just as two more people appeared in the doorway.

“Hey guys!” Lance called out, raising a hand and grinning. “Good to see you here!”

“Hey Pidge,” Keith offered, nodding with a small smile. Pidge and her brother were both dressed in loose track pants and t-shirts, and Pidge’s long hair was pulled back into its customary ponytail, leaving her field of vision clear.

“You’re just everywhere, aren’t you?” Pidge asked, looking amused as she kicked off her shoes. Her bright eyes lit up as she shyly returned his grin. 

“Like a bad rash,” Veronica chimed in, turning from her conversation with Ryou to get a look at the newcomers. 

Hunk, who had turned at the new voices, looked bemused. “Pidge?”

For her part, Pidge looked equally confused. “Hunk?”

Matt eyed his sister speculatively. “Katie?”

“Matt?” This was from Shiro, who had turned from his conversation with a student at the commotion.

Matt’s eyebrows winged upwards in surprise. “Shiro?”

“What the hell,” Lance mumbled. “Does everyone already know each other then?”

Keith could only shrug, completely flummoxed. Nearby, Veronica offered, “I don’t.”

“Me neither,” Ryou added helpfully. 

Shiro only shook his head, excusing himself from the other student and walking over. Obediently, Veronica and Ryou fell into step behind him, fanning out as he stopped next to Keith, Lance and Hunk. 

“Is this ‘Pidge’ then?” he asked, directing the question to Keith. 

“Um, yes,” Keith said, still feeling a little off-center. “This is Pidge—sorry, _Katie_ —and her brother Matt. They’re the ones we told you might be coming in for a lesson.”

“Okay.” Shiro nodded, offering the siblings a smile. “Well, that’s pretty easy—this is Katherine and Matthew _Holt_ , the children of Sam Holt. My boss,” he added, when Lance, Hunk and Veronica exchanged confused glances.

 _“Oh._ ” Lance nodded. “So, you already know each other, then?”

“Loosely.” Shiro wagged his robotic hand side-to-side. “I know Matt because he’s in the office a couple times a month to help out.”

“It’s part of my degree,” Matt affirmed. “I’m volunteering or interning at a few different places.”

“So you’re a gofer for geeks,” Lance said cheerfully.

“Essentially!” Matt grinned. 

“And I know Pidge because we’ve had a few classes together,” Hunk said.

“Pidge is my nickname, but it’s by invite only,” Katie added to the group at large, nodded. “No offense.”

“I’m kind of the opposite — Hunk is a nickname, but only a few people get to use my actual name,” Hunk said cheerfully.

“Do you mean Hun—” Lance grinned as Hunk abruptly slapped his hand over the other man’s mouth.

“Shut it, you,” Hunk said without rancor, too good-natured and used to Lance’s antics to be upset.

“So, Hunk knows Katie from school, and Shiro knows Matt from work,” Ryou summarized. “Then Keith and Lance know Matt _and_ Katie because…?”

“Video,” Shiro said.

“How many people did you send that to?” Pidge asked, frowning at Keith.

“Just Shiro and Lance,” Keith replied. “Ryou saw it, but I didn’t send it to him.”

“Matt and Katie are in my surf class on Wednesdays, too. And Keith and I wandered into Katie’s workplace last week. She works at a coffee shop,” Lance added.

“Small world.” Ryou shook his head wonderingly, offering the two a smile. “Well, I actually need to be heading back into work, but it was nice to meet you, Matt and Katie.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Shiro said. “Veronica, three minutes.”

“I’ll call everyone in if you’re not back,” Veronica nodded, before turning back to the Holt siblings. “I’m Veronica McClain, one of the instructors and Lance’s older sister.”

“You two look alike.” Matt nodded, smiling as he shook her hand genially.

“I could say the same for you and Katie as well,” Veronica said with some amusement before turning to Pidge. “So, what’s this I hear about a height contest and tossing people on their asses?”

“Oh,” Pidge wrenched her gaze from Shiro, shooting Hunk a quick look before grinning at Veronica. “Yes! Thanks for reminding me. Lance—” She turned to smirk triumphantly at the taller boy, “—you are not a foot taller than me.”

Lance blinked at her. _“What?”_

“You heard me,” Pidge gloated as Keith started snickering. “The other day, when I said Matt was six inches taller than me, and you said that was still six inches shorter than you. You were wrong.”

“What?” Lance planted his fists on his hips and glared down at her. “Oh, that’s _it!_ Where’s a tape measure?”

“We don’t have time for this right now,” Veronica said. Keith rolled his eyes.

“Yes we do!” Lance insisted. “This is a matter of pride! Keith—I know Shiro keeps one in the office. Go get it.”

“No need,” Pidge replied, pulling a small card out of the pocket of her sweatpants. Holding it up, she showed Lance the card that had been handed to her back when they first met in the coffee shop. She flipped it around to show him the 5’11” scrawled on the back in his own handwriting. “I’m five-three,” She smirked. “Which means that you are not a foot taller than me, _nor_ are you six inches taller than Matt.”

“Seriously?” Lance eyeballed Matt, who only shrugged.

“As amusing as it always is to see Lance _cut down to size_ ,” Veronica chuckled, “we need to get class started. Then I’ll show you how to toss your brother.”

“What?” Matt squawked, straightening in alarm. Lance sniggered.

“We’ll use Lance to demonstrate,” Veronica added, linking her arm through Pidge’s and leading her towards the front of the room. Lance’s laughter abruptly cut off as he gaped, and Keith and Hunk started laughing.

_“What?”_


	5. The Road Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the oddest interrogation Adam had ever been in.

Adam stepped into Altea Books, shivering as he passed through the magic of the barrier. He paused inside the door next to a whiteboard which advertised upcoming events in colorful ink, glancing around for the owner. The shop was a modest-sized bookstore; two stories in size, set at the end of a row of other, similar buildings in the heart of Corpus Christi’s downtown district. There wasn’t much that set it apart from its neighbors, except that the front half of the store had been opened up to create an atrium and allow the scents of coffee and baked goods to drift down to the patrons below. Light oak shelves created rows for patrons to peruse, and a brightly decorated children’s area was off to the side. Part of a wall had been removed and replaced with tall windows, and several pieces of overstuffed furniture were clustered within, set around tables littered with books displayed in enticing arrangements.

It was, Adam thought, a perfectly charming and mundane store. You would never suspect it was also a hub and gatehouse for Corpus Christi’s supernatural community. However, for those in the know, this was one of two places that acted as something of a supernatural way station: you could come here for help, or to purchase supplies, or to meet other local supes. And checking in, if you planned to be in the area for longer than a week, was more than the polite thing to do — it was required, though technically you had a full lunar cycle to declare yourself to the local populace.

And loathe as he was to follow  _ any _ of Takashi Shirogane’s advice, Adam could admit that he had dawdled long enough. The first week or so he really had been finding an apartment and settling in, but he also hadn’t been looking forward to meeting/declaring himself to the local Pack. Packs were nosy by nature, and Adam didn’t feel like dealing with their inquisitiveness. Denver had been large enough that it had more than one Pack, as well as it’s share of transients and Omegas. After that first meeting, and the occasional run-in, they had pretty much left Adam alone. 

However, despite its size, there was only one werewolf Pack in Corpus Christi, and so far as Adam knew, no Omegas. Which meant that the local Pack would probably not be content to let him hang back and keep to himself without more explanation than Adam wanted to give. And Adam was happily avoiding that uncomfortable discussion, fully intending to wait until the last day before presenting himself to the gatekeeper, with the intention of putting off meeting Alpha Shirogane until after the next moon. His plan had worked wonderfully, until the Alpha showed up at his workplace. 

Or, until he had showed up at the Alpha’s workplace. Whichever.

So here he was, a full week ahead of his mental schedule, looking around a bookstore in downtown Corpus Christi, hoping to run into a Sphinx who would arrange for him to “officially” meet the local werewolf Alpha.

“Welcome to Altea Books!” Greeted a cheerful-looking man with an alarming orange mustache. “Is there anything I can help you find today?”

“Ah, yes, actually...” Adam stepped forward, towards the other man, and tried to avoid staring at his almost unnaturally bright red hair and impressive handlebar mustache. “I’m looking for Allura Altea?”

“Ah, yes, Allura.” The man’s gaze flicked over him, suddenly far keener than it had been. “And who would you be?”

“I’m Adam. Adam Wassam,” Adam replied, shifting his weight uneasily as something skated across his skin. It wasn’t unfriendly, just feeling him out, but that didn’t make Adam more comfortable with the gesture.

“No need for all that—you’re not in any trouble here. We’ve been expecting you, in fact.” The man smiled enigmatically. “Allura is upstairs helping out in the cafe, I believe.”

Without another word the man turned, gesturing for Adam to follow as he led him past a sign advertising the daily specials and up the stairs to a cozy cafe. The outside wall had been fitted with several windows, just as below, allowing people to sit and look out over the city as they ate. More small tables lined the low wall that separated the upstairs for the downstairs, affording patrons a different view, and still more tables were tucked against the interior, lit with warm amber sconces stationed above them. A few people were scattered throughout, but it was the flash of bright silver hair by the counter that caught Adam’s eye.

_ ‘She isn’t even trying to be subtle,’ _ Adam thought ruefully. Then again, neither was the man who’d led him up here.

Most humans would simply think that her shining silver hair was a fashion statement—“silvered” hair had been coming back into popularity recently—but any fool with more than a drop of other in their veins would recognize this woman for what she was.

“Coran!” She called cheerfully, voice lilting over the syllables, waving as if they might have somehow missed her presence. “What have you brought me?”

“A guest, Princess,” the now-identified Coran replied, equally cheerful.

“Oh? Lovely.” She beamed at him. “You must be Adam, yes? I’ve been waiting for you to show yourself.”

“So I’ve heard. I apologize for the delay,” Adam replied politely, offering Allura a small bow and nodding to the woman behind the counter. 

“At least you didn’t wait until the last moment,” Allura said blithely, leaving Adam to wonder if she knew something he didn’t as she accepted a tray of small cups, with equally small spoons tucked into them. 

“Here: try them,” She said, holding the tray out.

“What are they?” Adam asked, looking at the cups curiously. Half were pale green, and smelled of middle-eastern spices, sending a pang though him. The other were bright yellow-orange, and smelled fruity.

“Chilled soups,” Allura answered cheerfully as he reluctantly took one of each. “Sia has been experimenting with a few recipes, and we want to offer samples and see which one customers like better. Coran, you too.”

“But of course!” Coran, who was still standing behind him, took a small cup, humming happily as he spooned a bit of the concoction into his mouth. “Sia, you are a treasure.”

“You charmer.” The woman behind the counter beamed. “Be sure to put a tally on the board for your favorite, though.”

“I can’t decide.” Coran shook his head regretfully. “What if I take the tray around, Allura? Give you and this young man here a moment to talk.”

“I’ll take the tray.” Sia bustled out from behind the counter, handily taking the tray from Allura and giving Coran a tolerant smile. “Somebody needs to watch the floor, after all.”

Coran snapped his fingers in mock-frustration. “Ah, well. I’ve been banished, it seems. Adam, nice to meet you.”

“And you as well,” Adam replied formally, offering Coran a small smile as the other man turned and strode towards the stairs. He turned to find Allura watching him closely. Reluctantly, Adam picked up one of the tiny cups, giving it a discrete sniff, but was unable to discern anything other than fruit and some normal kitchen spices. Adam sipped, surprised to find the tang of vinegar and garlic and cheese underlying the sweetness of peaches and honey.

“This is very good,” he offered. “Were you going to offer it on its own, or pair it with something?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” Allura slid behind the counter, tapping her fingernails along the display case as she did so. “We have a few sandwich or salad options in mind, to offer it as a special. Or it can be served on it’s own—we do have some rather finicky appetites that frequent the shop. What do you think?”

Adam hesitated in the middle of picking up the second soup, brow furrowing in consternation. Was she actually asking his opinion? What kind of gatekeeper was she? Wasn’t she supposed to be asking him about his motivations for being here, or how long he planned to stay?

Disconcerted, Adam took a sip of the second offering, ignoring the pang of nostalgia as the tang of crème fraîche and the savory za’atar hit his tongue. Pushing it aside, he considered her question, even if it was odd.

“Well, if you have finicky appetites,” he said, reading between the lines (“finicky appetites” probably meant a lot of supernatural creatures ate here as well), “then it might be a good idea to offer it solo. Or maybe as a side dish? With a salad or sandwich? The soups are delicious, but don’t have much substance by themselves.”

“An excellent idea.” Allura tapped a finger against the counter as she turned to stare at the menu board critically. “I’ll address is with Sia—I’m sure she has ideas for pairing already.”

Adam started to open his mouth to ask why she had even  _ bothered _ , but then closed it with a snap. What did her motivations matter? At least she wasn’t asking uncomfortable, prying questions. “It might also be well served with a drink? Or cheese or crackers.”

“Ginger ale, I think. Or perhaps a sparkling water. We don’t have a liquor license for the store, or I’d suggest a brut.” Allura turned back to him, looking pleased. “Alas, we’re not a full restaurant. Nor do I want to be. What would you like to drink?”

“What?” Adam blinked, disconcerted.

Allura waved at the board behind her. “What do you want to drink? Are you a coffee sort of man, or do you prefer tea? Shiro is quite particular to our teas, and our oolong milk tea is good hot or iced. And of course we have some specialty drinks, as well as soda or water if you prefer.”

Adam wrinkled his nose at the mention of the other Alpha. “I’ll just take a coffee, please.”

“Of course.” Allura poured him a mug and slid it across the counter. “Cream and sugar are there, if you prefer either,” she added, gesturing towards the stand set off to the side.

By the time Adam had doctored his coffee to his liking, Sia had returned and Allura was rounding the counter with a steaming cup of tea in her hand. 

“I’m taking Adam down to my office,” Allura told the other woman casually. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

“Of course,” Sia nodded pleasantly. “Coran is up front, and Hunk should be here in a few minutes to help with the lunch rush, so take your time.”

Quietly, Adam followed Allura down through the store and into the more spartan employee area. There was a shiver as he passed through yet another barrier and Allura escorted him into what must have been her office. Dusky blue walls and medium oak furniture kept things bright and warm, while small knick knacks and potted plants on the bookcase next to the desk brought life and color to the space. The fluorescent light had been replaced with something less harsh, and a few lamps decorated the area to provide specific illumination. 

Allura did not approach her desk as he had half-expected her to, nor did she seat herself on the loveseat pressed against the wall nearest the door. Instead, she seated them at a small table against the wall, reclining into the seat and setting her cup down.

“Welcome to the area,” she said cheerfully, “what do you think of our fair town thus far?”

“It’s quite different from Colorado,” Adam replied. “I’m not sure what to do without the mountains around me.”

“Go to the beach,” Allura offered cheekily. “Surfing, sailing, fishing—if it’s water, we’ve got it.”

“I did take a run along the beach when I first got here,” Adam confessed. “It seemed like a requirement.”

“Oh, it is,” Allura agreed, nodding. “And after you’re done exercising, you can just dunk yourself to cool off.”

“And then climb into your car, dripping, for the ride home,” Adam said wryly.

Allura tipped back her head and laughed. “Well, yes,” she said as she got her giggles under control, “the only person I know who runs on the beach regularly has a jeep, and he just hoses it out when it gets too dirty.”

“Sound idea,” Adam nodded, recalling the amount of sand that he was still finding in the crevices of his own vehicle.

“So, Alpha Shirogane tells me that you’re working at the Harrow and Croft’s Comprehensive Building and Design Company.”

“I am,” Adam replied evenly. “I was hired not too long ago and transferred from Denver. I’m the new assistant manager for the construction department.”

“Are you settling in well, then? Have you got everything moved in?”

It was the oddest interrogation Adam had ever been in. Granted, he’d only been in one other territory before, but shouldn’t there be more...digging? The gatekeeper in Denver had also been the Head Alpha, and she’d bluntly handed Adam a paper to fill out, along with a packet of information about which pieces of forest he could run during the full moon. Whereas Allura, as far as Adam could tell, just wanted to chat. 

She didn’t ask why he was Omega, or demand that he have a formal meeting with Alpha Shiro, or any of the things Adam expected. She asked what he liked to eat and which books he preferred, and gave opinions on the local cable and internet companies. Adam sat, silently on edge and waiting for the other shoe to drop—she wanted him to relax for some reason, and he was sure once he did, then she’d reveal the true thrust of the conversation. 

It was in the middle of an anecdote about Coran and a BLT that he broke.

“What do you want from me?” Adam demanded. 

Allura paused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re the Gatekeeper,” Adam gestured towards her, feeling a little foolish. “Right?”

“I am,” Allura nodded. “Well, one of them, anyway.”

“But you haven’t asked why I’m here, or what my intentions are, or even asked where I’m living,” Adam continued, frustrated. “You haven’t warned me off of certain areas or demanded that I formally meet Shirogane, who, by the way, possibly wants me in a shallow grave in the desert.”

“Oh, I already know all of that,” Allura smiled at him as he stared at her. “And you’ve already met Shiro—you told me that you work with him. If he wants to formally introduce you to the pack, that’s his prerogative and you need to speak to him about it. And while it’s true that he’s quite annoyed, it’s not with you, specifically.”

“It sure feels like it’s with me, specifically,” Adam grumbled under his breath, but Allura was still talking.

“Shiro just doesn’t like stress—or surprises. And you’re both,” Allura continued. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the trouble that Woodville had a few weeks back.”

“...What?” Adam tilted his head curiously, still unsure how this connected to Shrio hating his guts.

“Woodville. And Marshall a few moons before that.” Allura regarded him, eyes narrowing when he showed no signs of recognition. “Have you  _ not _ heard?”

“I’m not particularly close to any other supers,” Adam replied evenly. 

And it was true; he wasn’t. There were four packs within the Denver area—the Head Alpha’s Pack, and three subordinate Packs—but even though he’d been on friendly terms with them, they’d never been particularly close. Which was exactly how Adam preferred it. 

“Mm. Well, then you wouldn’t know that in the last year, there has been a rash of people—mundanes—bitten and terrorized up along the border of Louisiana and Texas, though there have been reports up in Arkansas and even Oklahoma as well,” Allura said, watching him through suddenly-keen eyes.

“Bitten?” Adam had a feeling he didn’t like there this was going.

“Bitten,” Allura replied. “Turned. By a Rogue Alpha.”

_ Well, _ Adam thought faintly,  _ shit. _

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The bell over the door chimed, and Pidge glanced up from her cups to see Keith in the doorway offering her a shy smile.

“Hello, welcome to The Daily Grind, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” Pidge recited easily, returning his smile before going back to her orders. Once she’d dispensed the drinks (a caramel macchiato and a soy vanilla latte) to a couple of college girls, she turned back to Keith with a smile.

“Hey, Keith, how are you doing?” she asked, trying to sound casual. She glanced behind him, but didn’t see anyone else. “Where’s Lance?”

“Oh, uh, he had a class this morning,” Keith said, lips curling into that sweet, almost shy smile that never failed to turn her insides to mush and make her heart beat a little faster. “I have class in a little bit, myself, but…”

“You needed a hit, first?” Pidge asked easily, falling into easy banter as her heart slowed down a little. Her stupid crush was stupid, she told herself firmly. She just had a weakness for boys with sweet smiles and hero complexes, and she needed to get over it and act like a human being.

In days since last week’s judo lesson, Pidge had started seeing more of Keith and Lance, as well as Hunk. They’d probably  _ always _ been around, she realized, but now that she knew them, she just noticed them more. Though they did stop into the coffee shop a few times (Lance had strolled in Friday morning crowing about “the ban being lifted”—whatever that meant), it was also around campus, or just around town. 

Hunk had plopped down next to her in class on Friday with a cheerful hello and a question about homework. She didn’t share any classes with Lance, but he was a good friend of Hunk’s, so she often saw him on campus between classes—he would say hello if he was close enough, or offer her a wave if that wasn’t practical. Having anybody to sit next to, or who would wave to her, was a novel concept for Pidge, who was used to being mostly solitary.

“Yeah,” Keith smiled at her. “Ryou got the last of the coffee this morning, and I didn’t have time to make another pot before I left.”

Pidge grinned, trying not to notice the way Keith’s still-damp hair curled behind his ears. “Well, you came to the right place. What can I get you?”

“Light roast with an extra shot and room for cream,” Keith said, passing over his card for Pidge to swipe. He tapped his fingers on the bar nervously as Pidge set about making his order. “So, um, are you busy? Sometime?”

“What?” Pidge glanced over her shoulder at him, brow furrowed in confusion as she tamped the grounds and clicked them into the espresso machine. “I mean, I have class later on today, if that’s what you’re asking. And surf lessons with Matt this afternoon, but you know that.”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Keith said, watching as she set two small cups under the dual stream and pressed the button. “Not, like  _ now _ . But, sometime soon?”

Pidge paused with a cup under the dispense for the drip coffee and squinted at Keith, thoroughly confused. “What?”

Keith shifted his weight from foot-to-foot and huffed out a breath the ruffled his damp bangs. “I’m trying to ask if you would, you know, like to go do something. Some time. Soon-ish.”

Pidge almost forgot to flip the toggle on the coffee dispenser as she continued to stare at the other boy, who glanced away, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“Do you mean...with you and Lance? Or Hunk?” Pidge asked, mind racing even as she stubbornly told her heart to  _ slow the hell down, dammit. _ Keith seemed too nervous to just be asking her to to hang out with his friends, but she didn’t want to presume…

“No.” Keith’s cheeks were tinged pink now, and his gaze darted up to meet hers before dropping to study the countertop. “With me. Just me.”

Pidge bit the inside of her cheek, pouring the shot into the cup, double-checking to make sure there would be room for creamer before snapping a lid on it. She could feel her own cheeks heating as her heart rate kicked back up. “Are... Are you asking me on a date?” 

“Yeah. Yes.” Keith nodded, shoulder hunching slightly as he dragged his gaze back up to meet hers squarely. “I am.

_ Oh. _ Pidge was almost certain her heart was going to explode or something. He liked her? Pidge didn’t really consider herself  _ ugly _ , but she also knew that she wasn’t somebody guys normally looked at—she was short, and built more like a 12-year-old boy than and 18-year-old girl. Guys normally liked girls with  _ boobs _ , who wore makeup and had hips. Not the gawky science geek who built robots and wrote code for fun. Or if they did, it was because they were the equally awkward and uncool.

But Keith… Keith was  _ cool,  _ Pidge thought wildly as she stared at him. He was tall and handsome, and he was a lifeguard and taught kenpo. He was fit—she’d seen the definition in his shoulders and arms last week when he’d been lifeguarding at the beach, and you didn’t get triceps like that if you played video games all day. Lance was almost as buff, and the two of them probably worked out together and… Pidge frowned, remembering the first time he’d come into the coffee shop. 

“Um, it’s totally cool if you don’t want to,” Keith said in a rush, and Katie realized she’d let the silence carry on too long. “I still want to be friends, and everything. But I also kind of like you so, I thought… But, no pressure,” he said sincerely. “I just thought I’d ask.”

“No. No, I’d like to,” Pidge blurted out, cheeks heating furiously, then winced. “I can’t this weekend, though — I’ve got plans with my family. But, um, next weekend? If you’re available?”

“Really?” Keith blinked at her before his lips tilted up into a relieved smile. “Oh, no, that’s cool. I have plans with my pa— family this weekend, too. I was thinking next week? Or weekend, if you’re free?”

“Yeah, I’m free.” Pidge couldn’t stop the grin spreading over her face even as she blushed. 

“Okay. Okay, cool. Um, I’ll see you later? At the beach?” Keith asked nervously.

“Yes.” Pidge nodded. “Surf lessons. We can talk after, maybe? Or you can text me?”

“Sure, I can do that.” Keith nodded. “I’ll think of a few things, and we can decide what to do? Or you can, too?”

Pidge had no idea what to do on a date—she’d never been on one before. She nodded anyway, and Keith backed away from the counter, still grinning. 

“Okay, great. I’ll see you later!” He said, before turning and leaving the shop.

“Later!” Pidge agreed, smiling happily at the door for a moment before blinking down at the counter in confusion. 

“Um,” Pidge glanced up to see Keith standing shame-faced and blushing furiously in front of her. “I forgot my cup.”

Pidge bit her tongue and wordlessly handed it to him. She would not laugh, she would not laugh, she would not— 

The door swung shut behind Keith as he bolted out of it, still bright red.

Pidge threw back her head and laughed.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Pidge sat on her board, drifting in the tide as the warm water lapped at her calves. Class was almost over, and she’d managed to be the one to shove her brother off the board this time. The fool had been trying to show off for Halle (who, depressingly enough, had the cleavage required to wear a bikini top) not realizing that the girl in question was too busy trying to show off for  _ Lance _ to pay attention to her more-geeky, less-muscled older brother. Halle hadn’t even turned around at the splash, but Lance had seen, and discreetly given her a thumbs-up while Matt spluttered and swam after his board. The fact that he’d had to chase it for more than a few feet due to being in the wrong part of the current had been the cherry on top of Pidge’s personal revenge cake. 

“Katie!” Pidge’s head jerked up at the sound of Lance’s voice, and she realized she’d spaced out. “Last ride in — class is over in ten!” He called from the shore, cupping his hands over his mouth to be heard. 

Pidge waved her arm to show she’d heard him, then focused on finding a good wave to ride in. Something flashed in the corner of her eye—silver on white, darting into the water with a splash and leaving little more than a ripple when her head turned to look at it. Katie frowned, studying the area, heart suddenly racing as she considered the various predators that could be lurking even in the relatively shallow water of the bay.

Cautiously, Pidge leaned over, trying to peer into the waters around her even as the waves started rising at her back. Even if the waters had been clear, the current still would have made it difficult to see. Hoping that whatever she had seen had just been a fish (it was probably a fish, a  _ small  _ fish, right?), Pidge lay down on the board, taking advantage of the tide to paddle towards shore and hope a wave would come along.

As luck would have it, one did, and Pidge grinned, popping up on the board with only a small wobble and riding the gentle wave into shore, hopping off to find Lance leaning on his own board and grinning at her broadly. 

“Good job Katie!” He grinned at her, blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled widely. “Did you have a good ride in?”

“Yeah. I thought I saw something out there for a second, like, a shark,” She found herself saying, wondering why her mouth kept talking. She felt ridiculous even as she was saying it, but she wanted him to pay attention to her for just a moment longer as her heart stuttered in her chest. “Silly, right? It was probably a fish.”

Lance blinked and grimaced, reaching up to shove a hand through his wet hair as he turned to scan the water. He took a few steps forward, waves splashing at his ankles before humming to himself. 

Pidge frowned, watching tan fingers weave through dark locks as she remembered what had been bothering her earlier. The first time Lance had come into the coffee shop, he was with Keith. 

And they had been holding hands.

And every thought of Lance’s pretty blue eyes or long tan fingers vanished, even as the boy in question reached to cup his hands around his mouth.

“Hey, bring it in MerMatt!” He called. “Time to wax your board!”

_ “Was that a euphemism?” _ Came Matt’s faint reply, and Pidge was torn between laughter and exasperation, even as Lance howled with laughter: only her brother could manage to simultaneously sound like a pervert  _ and _ a giant nerd.

“So, Lance...” Halle’s ponytail, Pidge thought bitterly, somehow didn’t look bedraggled, and managed to lay neatly over her shoulder to send droplets of water directly into her ample cleavage. “What are you up to this weekend?”

“Hm?” Lance’s head titled in her direction, but his eyes didn’t stray from Matt or Jackson as they made their way towards shore. “Oh, I’ve got some things going on with my family. You?”

“Kelsey, Leena and I were going to go see the new movie that came out,” Halle replied, seeming not to mind Lance’s inattention as she continued. “You know, the one with—” 

Pidge stopped listening, watching as Matt gestured for 14-year-old Jackson to go ahead of him before catching the next wave in.

Lance must have finished his conversation with Halle; she followed Jackson up the beach after Lance high-fived him, congratulating him on nearly getting upright before sending him to dry and wax his board before putting it by the shed.

“Are you hanging out with Keith this weekend?” Pidge asked as Matt caught a wave, fumbling the “pop” before gaining a knee, arms splayed for balance as his board wobbled.

“Yeah, why, what’s up?” Lance half-turned to her, gaze still focused on Matt. “He shouldn’t be too busy, if you want to call him or something. Um, Sunday, maybe? Normally he’s working afternoons, but he’s got this weekend off.”

“No, no, just curious,” Pidge shifted, licking the salt from her lips as she watched her brother topple into the surf. Keith said he had plans with his  _ family. _ Lance had told Halle the same thing. But he’d also confirmed that he and Keith were hanging out  _ together. _ Pidge grinned, feeling like a weight that she hadn’t even been aware of had been lifted off of her shoulders. “Matt and I are hanging out this weekend, too. We’re going to watch the Perseids together.”

“Sounds like fun,” Lance said distractedly, grinning at Matt as he slogged his way out of the water. “Good job, MerMatt!”

“I fell off. Again.” Matt, who was nothing if not a good sport, laughed. 

“But you’re such a natural in the water,” Lance grinned.

“Yeah, I’m practicing my Baywatch style, picturesque hair-fling,” Matt said dryly. “Think the girls noticed?”

“It was dead sexy,” Lance teased. “If Kelsey weren’t jailbait, she would be swooning.”

“Not that that’s not great for my ego, but I’d really prefer someone who  _ wasn’t _ a minor did some swooning.” Matt rolled his eyes. Lance promptly pretended to swoon, and Pidge bit the inside of her cheek. 

“Sorry, I didn’t see your ‘picturesque hair-fling,’” Pidge said dryly when her brother glanced at her. “I was blinded by your pasty white skin.”

“Excuse me?” Matt made a face as he tried to swing his board at her. “Look who’s talking!”

“Hey now, fight nice children,” Lance stepped between them, using his board to block Matt’s as he clapped a hand on the other man’s shoulder and guided him up the beach. “You both have some color. I mean, that color is pink, but there’s  _ some _ color. Now, go wax your boards and put them away.” He ordered, raising his voice to drown out their protests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story has four arcs planned. Arc one (chapters 1-10) are complete, and arc two (chapters 11-22) are almost done. To help give you a frame of reference, arcs one and two are each one lunar cycles long (about 28 days/a month). I'll be updating the story weekly until I get to the end of my pre-written chapters (I'm almost done with 21 now) and then I'll switch to updating as I complete them.
> 
> Just as an fyi, writing time has become a scarce commodity in my household right now. I'm currently homeschooling my three children on top of all the normal household duties and my own health issues, so while I am trying to write 500-1000 words a day...it doesn't usually happen.


	6. Overture for the  Sturgeon Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance discusses some concerns, Pidge is a hot mess, Ryou is kind of thick, Veronica Knows All, and Keith is, oddly enough, the sane one. (That's kind of weird, right?)
> 
> Also, it's the day of the full moon.

“So, you ready to tell me what’s bothering you?” Keith asked, leaning against the edge of the pool and yanking his goggles up as Lance reached for the water bottle stowed up under the starting block. Lance paused, lips pursing before he grimaced. Keith waited patiently, even though he felt ridiculously awake and energetic despite the early hour. Training was partly to blame; it was something he’d grown up doing, so his body woke him up early whether he wanted it or not. The other part of it was the date — today was the height of the full moon. 

Everyone, Keith knew, would be finding ways to distract themselves until moonrise, dealing with the excess energy in their own way until the moon compelled them to shift into their animal skins. He’d heard Ryou moving around four a.m. and scented Veronica when his brother had opened the door, so they’d probably gone for a run before heading to their respective workplaces. Shiro was in the gym’s weight room, going back and forth between the treadmill and the free weights. Hunk was probably baking pancakes for his family, or muffins for his preschool dojo kids. And Lance… Well, Lance wasn’t a were, but he felt the pull of the moon and the tides just the same. His reactions were muted compared to werecreatures, but he was almost as restless as Keith, and had been convinced to come to the gym with only minor persuasion.

Keith grinned at the memory as he watched Lance’s head tilt back, skin damp with moisture and adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed before handing the bottle to Keith. 

“So, what’s got you in a twist?” He asked after he took his own drink, pressing his toes against the tiled wall under the water and stretching out his calves as Lance fidgeted. 

“Not much?” Lance grimaced, plucking his own goggles off of his face and dropping them next to the water bottle. “Feeling a bit guilty — I think I was leaning on Pidge and Matt yesterday.”

“Think?” Keith frowned. Lance had gotten a lot better about “leaning” on people as he’d grown, but he still slipped up occasionally. “Well, yesterday was the first day of the full moon.”

“Pidge more than Matt,” Lance chewed on his lower lip contemplatively. “But it wasn’t that—much—it was more something she said?”

“...Which was…?” Keith prompted when Lacne fell silent again. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Lance sighed. “After she came in from the final wave, she mentioned that she thought she’d seen something while she was out there.”

“Probably a fish,” Keith shrugged dismissively.

“Yeah,” Lance said hesitantly, then lowered his voice, forcing Keith to lean in closer. “I kind of asked the undines after she said it—I was already at the water, since the last students were coming in. Just in case something larger had wandered into the bay, you know?”

“And?” Keith asked patiently.

“One of them said she might have seen  _ them _ ,” Lance admitted, frowning. “They stick by my beginners, and it’s only the third lesson. So, one was flitting around Katie, just to be sure she was safe, but they got curious and were at the surface. Pretty safe, since there’s a lot going on and most non-magicals will just mistake them for foam, if they see them at all, you know? Pidge turned her head, and they ducked, but she was looking around afterwards, so they thought they might have been spotted.”

Keith frowned. “You did not have time for that entire conversation just by stepping into the water.” 

Lance rolled his eyes, nudging Keith aside so he could grab the handles under the starting block and stretch his shoulders. “You’re right; I didn’t. I just stepped in to make sure nothing unfriendly was trolling the area. The conversation came later when I went swimming after class. Also, not the point.”

“So, what is your point?” Keith asked,

“That she saw them at all,” Lance replied.

“You don’t  _ know _ that’s the case,” Keith pointed out. “It very well could have been a fish, or just a bit of water.”

“True,” Lance nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

“So, what’s your real worry?” Keith asked, pushing off from the wall to tread water a bit.

“That her sensitivity is increasing,” Lance said promptly. “But I haven’t known her long enough to know if that’s the case.”

“Hm,” Keith frowned. “Let’s do another 200, just to cool down, and then we’ll talk about it some more, okay? Give me some time to think on this.”

Lance nodded, dropping his hands to the tiled wall and shuffling over so Keith had half of the lane before reaching for his goggles. The pool was nearly empty—only two other people on the other side of the pool—so there was no reason for Keith and Lance to share a lane except that they wanted to. Still, Keith thought as they pushed off the wall, he didn’t mind. 

When they had been young, Veronica was newly bitten and everybody nervous about what that meant, he and Lance had not gotten along. Lance had been loud, boisterous, special (in a good way) and defensive about these relatively unknown wolves who were now trying to claim his sister. Keith had been quiet, temperamental, special in a far different way, and annoyed beyond belief that this brash little  _ menace _ didn’t trust Shiro, who was probably the kindest, most trustworthy person in the  _ world. _ Lance hadn’t liked Keith’s reclusive nature, Keith hadn’t liked how Lance demanded constant attention. Lance thought Keith had a mullet, Keith thought Lance petty and vain. Lance thought everything came easy to Keith, Keith thought that Lance abused his talents to get out of working.

And neither of them had been wrong, precisely. But neither of them had been  _ right _ , either. They’d both had a lot of growing, and learning, to do. Shiro and Ryou had returned to Corpus Christi to resume control of the territory, and often in those early days Thace or Krolia were down with them, usually bringing Keith or some of the cousins who were missing the two older boys. And since the Espinosa Coven was a large part of helping Shiro regain his power base, Keith had seen  _ a lot _ of Lance. 

Which worked out well in the end, Keith reflected, watching Lance pull ahead of him, controlled and graceful as he rolled, tucking his arms and chin to his torso before planting his feet on the wall and pushing off in a burst of bubbles. Keith stayed close behind Lance for the rest of the workout, content to simply watch the other boy move. Even without his familiars or magic or his  _ talents _ , water was Lance’s element, and Keith loved to watch him in it. 

Lance was a strong swimmer even without any enhanced strength, and Keith wasn’t doing flip-turns like Lance was, so Lance had already slapped the wall when Keith finished, feet kicking idly as the water settled around him.

“Okay,” Keith said, once he’d pulled his goggles off and used the little towel dangling from the starting block’s pegs to wipe his face. “So, why would her sensitivity be increasing? And if her sensitivity  _ is _ increasing, why does that worry you?”

Lance dropped his own goggles onto the tile before hooking his chin over folded arms, feet drifting towards the surface as he stretched out. 

“Her sensitivity might be increasing due to exposure,” Lance said at last, lips pursed as he tested the words. “If she hasn’t had any real exposure to it, then her spark would be mostly dormant unless it was  _ really _ strong. But, now that she’s been around us, she’s… blooming?”

“Blooming?” Keith asked dubiously.

“It’s the only way I can think to describe it.” Lance shrugged apologetically. “It’s like a seed. Most of the magic users you’ve seen are part of active covens, so any talent has been identified and nurtured from birth, or at least a really young age. But if somebody is born with the talent, but it isn’t identified or exposed to other similar energies, it can just...lay dormant. Like a seed in a seed pack.”

“So being around us is like putting the seed in the ground?” Keith mulled that over. “Alright, I see what you’re saying. But why is that a problem?”

“Put a rose bush along a walking trail,” Lance said dryly. “How long after it blooms before people are trying to pick the flowers?”

“Roses have thorns,” Keith pointed out, and Lance pulled a face in response.

“Okay, bad example,” He admitted. “Decorative flowers aren’t my forte, okay? But you understand what I’m saying.”

“So being around us could put her in danger,” Keith said.

“Yes.” Lance nodded. “And us. If her sensitivity is increasing, if she’s  _ seeing _ things, then chances are she’ll talk about them. Possibly to the wrong person. But if her sensitivity is increasing, that means her talents will start showing. And that can be...startling.”

“You sound like you have some experience with that.” Keith deadpanned.

“Just a little,” Lance said wryly. “Point is, I don’t have a baseline to work with, so I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“That is troubling,” Keith pulled himself out of the water, shoving backwards on the tile to make room for Lance to get out and stretch as well. “Have you talked to your mom?”

“I did the other day,” Lance nodded. “Right now we’re just...wait and see, about it.”

“But you’re worried,” Keith said.

“Yeah,” Lance sighed, stretching out his leg to nudge Keith’s ankle. “And then I leaned on her. I didn’t mean to.”

“You’ve mentioned that a couple times now,” Keith observed. “Why are you spun up about it? It happens; especially this close to the full moon.”

“I just feel bad about it,” Lance grimaced. “I know you’re interested in her; I don’t want to interfere.”

“Oh. Um,” Keith felt heat crawling up his neck. “I actually...might have asked her out.”

“You did?” Lance grinned at him. “Damn, moving fast there Romeo.”

“They died at the end. And were really stupid even before then,” Keith added, grimacing. 

“Good thing you learned from their mistakes,” Lance quipped, moving to pick up his towel by the wall, and tossing Keith’s to him. Keith caught it, scooping up his goggles and the small hand towel they used to wipe their faces with.

“My wolf likes her,” Keith admitted lowly, wrapping the towel over his shoulders and moving to stand closer to Lance as they walked towards the locker room.

Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t usually differentiate between the two.”

Keith grimaced. He knew what Lance was saying — Keith and “his wolf” weren’t  _ really _ two separate entities, even if it felt that way sometimes.

“I don’t know how else to describe it,” he said as they moved into the locker room. “I like how she smells, but I don’t know  _ why _ .”

“You track her,” Lance murmured, popping the door of his locker and reaching for his shower supplies. He glanced at Keith out of the corner of his eyes, watching as the other man stilled. “You didn’t notice?”

“I did,” Keith admitted reluctantly. “Again,  _ I don’t know why. _ ”

“Because you like her, doofus,” Lance said, lips quirking upwards. “She’s cute and smart and snarky, and loves her family.”

Keith stared at Lance, who shrugged. “I’ve arguably spent more time with her than you have, since she’s in my class,” he said, scooping up his stuff and heading for the showers. “She  _ is _ cute, in a might-be-mistaken-for-twelve kind of way. She’s  _ really _ smart — Matt is the only one who can keep up with her, but I think she and Hunk might get along. And the snark? The snark is Keith levels, for sure. So, I can see why you like her.”

“You sound like you might be a fan, too,” Keith wasn’t sure how he felt about that — he and Lance didn’t normally have the same taste in romantic partners, so it had never become a competition between them. His stomach twisted at the thought that it ever  _ could _ be.

“Of her brother: Matt at least looks legal, and will flirt back.” Lance winked at him, flipping on the water and leaning back to smirk and shoot him the finger guns. “Don’t worry, man, I’ve got your back.”

“Oh, yay,” Keith deadpanned, covering his relief by stepping into the next stall and flipping the water on. “At least I know who to blame when she runs away screaming,” he added, snapping the curtain shut on Lance’s affronted face.

He wasn’t even surprised when a bottle flew over the stall to smack into his head.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Pidge was running on caffeine and fumes. Her eyes were burning, her hands were on automatic, and she had chugged two shots of espresso straight off the machine before opening, and then dumped another four into her coffee cup while David gaped in astonishment. She didn’t even have it in her to feel embarrassed as she tossed a five into the cash register. 

She just  _ needed _ the kick, alright? She’d had a breakthrough with Rover, all thanks to her idiot lab partner who had accidentally overloaded their board. As reluctant as she was to give the fool any credit, his accidental explosion of  _ idiocy _ had paved the way for her personal revelation, and she’d been up past two a.m. trying to rewire her bot’s circuits to accept a greater power load. Which, when you had to be up at 4:30 a.m, was not such a great idea.

Pidge had even been scared of  _ herself _ in the mirror, quickly breaking out her measly stash of cosmetics to disguise the bags under her eyes and add some color to her cheeks so she didn’t frighten customers. On the plus side, she also found the lip gloss her mother had gotten her for Christmas last year, which she actually  _ liked _ because it wasn’t super sticky, but still had a little shine to it. On the downside, she couldn’t remember if she’d brushed her hair and had to snag a rubber band from the office to pull it up because there wasn’t one in her car.

So, she was running on about two hours of sleep and six shots of espresso, wired to hell from the morning rush and distracted by the relative durability of silicone versus carbon fiber casing when Keith and Lance strolled in the door looking like rock stars. To be perfectly fair, she hadn’t even known it was them: she’d been working on creating something ridiculously complicated for a daisy-fresh college girl when the door had chimed.

“Welcome to The Daily Grind!” She called out automatically, distracted by trying to remember the vanilla-to-hazelnut syrup ratio the recipe called for. David had cups lining up along the counter, and she was steadily working her way through different drinks, handing them off to bleary-eyed businessmen, haggard-looking college students and the occasional gym rat as she made her way through the line.

“Hey, Katie!” David called, and Pidge punched the button on the espresso machine answering with a distracted  _ hmm? _ as she wondered what the bean hopper level was.

“He says he wants the thing you made the other week,” David said, and Pidge glanced up to see Lance and Keith watching her curiously from the counter.

“Oh. Hey — hi!” Pidge fumbled the shot glass, wincing as hot espresso spilled over the back of her hand and slopped onto the floor. “Godd _ aaanng it, _ ” she hissed fervently.

“Are you alright?” Keith asked, brow crinkling in concern.

“Yeah, fine,” Pidge grimaced, grabbing the rag and ignoring the sting in her hand as she dropped it on the floor to mop up the spill. She nudged the rag down the line and towards the pile of dirty rags shoved under the counter. “David, can you make this non-fat double soy latte, please? I’ll handle these two.”

“You’ll handle us, huh Pidgey?” Lance grinned and wagged his eyebrows at her. Pidge rolled her eyes as Keith elbowed him in the side. “Will we like it?”

“Save the flirting for Matt,” she said crisply. “What are you guys after?”

“Caffeine and protein,” Lance replied. “You made me that thing the other week, and I’d like another one please.”

“Make it two. Are you sure you’re alright?” Keith asked, frowning at her hand. “That burn looks nasty.”

Before Pidge could really consider his words Keith had reached across the counter, grasping her hand and pulling it towards him to inspect it. 

“Uhh…” Pidge gaped and tried to reboot her brain, wondering faintly if Keith had ever actually  _ touched _ her before. His hand was warm where it wrapped around hers, and she could feel faint calluses at the base of his fingers as he twisted her hand to examine the burn. “No worse than a sunburn,” she managed to stutter out.

“A pretty bad sunburn,” Keith muttered, lips pursing. Pidge tried not to stare.

“I know I was making cracks about having color, but this wasn’t supposed to be how you took it,” Lance added, nudging Keith’s fingers aside. Pidge continued to stare as he curled his hand under his fingers, coolness emanating from his thumb as he dragged it slowly over the pink skin on the back of her hand.

“How are you doing that?” She blurted out.

“Doing what?” Lance asked as he withdrew his hand. Pidge stared at her hand: the stinging pain was back, but not as bad as before. “You should go run your hand under some cool water or something, before it swells up,” he added.

“I’m okay for now,” Pidge mumbled, distractedly typing in their order. “You both wanted the same thing I made for Lance last time? The blended mocha with and extra shot and vanilla protein powder?”

“Sure,” Lance said. “Keith doesn’t need the extra shot, though, just the protein. So can I have his extra shot?”

“I don’t need the protein either, and don’t tell me what to do,” Keith grumbled. “ _ You _ don’t need the extra caffeine, either.”

“Excuse me?” Lance huffed. “I was hauled out of bed  _ before six _ to go to the gym, and I have work in an hour, a class after lunch,  _ plus _ I’m going to be up all night, so stuff it,  _ mom. _ ”

“You don’t need the protein, or the caffeine, but you want the same thing as Lance?” Pidge asked, confused.

“Yes,” Keith nodded. 

“What the heck do you want the caffeine for?” Lance asked his friend. “You can just go home and  _ sleep. _ ”

“But I won’t, because I’m getting everything together for you for tonight,” Keith shot back. “So thanks for buying the coffee, and  _ you’re welcome _ jerkface.”

Pidge laughed, but gave them a discount anyway. “That’ll be seven dollars and forty-nine cents. Man, I wish I could go back to sleep. Rover kept me up  _ all night _ , and I’m exhausted.”

“Rover?” Keith’s nose twitched as he looked at her. “Did...you get a dog?”

“What? No, of course not,” Pidge asked, swiping Lance’s card and handing it back. “Rover is a ‘Remotely Operated Video Exploration Robot’, not a  _ dog. _ Turns out my idiot lab partner was onto something with the five-eighty connectors, and I was up all night rewiring my circuit board to handle the increased power.”

“...Do you know what she just said?” Lance asked Keith in an exaggerated whisper. 

“I think we need a translator,” Keith said wryly, then cleared his throat. “So, um, what is rover for?”

Sleep-deprivation and caffeine overload is Pidge’s only excuse when her mouth opened and said, “hunting dogmen.”

Lance and Keith both froze. “What?”

Pidge cringed, picking up their cups and moving to the line. She knew full well how crazy that made her sound—which was exactly why she didn’t usually talk about it. 

“And, you know. Hover technology,” She rushed on to say, dumping beans into the hopper of the espresso machine. “Right now all VTOL drones are operated through propellers—like a helicopter—but I want to see if I can use electromagnetic pulses supplemented with Li-po batteries to create and artificial lift system. The problem is—"

“Did you mean ‘dogmen’ like the creature, or ‘dogmen’ like the hermits that live up in the Sam Houston forest?” Keith asked, still staring at her.

Pidge froze, her finger hovering over the start button of the espresso machine. “What?”

“Um.” Keith tapped his fingers on the counter nervously and glanced at Lance.

“Don’t look at me: I don’t know what  _ either _ of you said,” Lance deadpanned. 

Pidge stabbed the button and whirled to face the two boys.  _ “You know the difference between the two?” _

Keith’s eyes widened dramatically. “Yes? My family lives in New Waverly, just north of Houston, so we spent a lot of time in the Sam Houston National Forest growing up.” He shot Lance a Look that Pidge couldn’t decipher. “Practically every month, really.”

Lance made a choking noise. 

“So, um, is that why you weren’t at class last night?” Keith asked as Lance coughed. Pidge frowned at him, grabbing a small cup and dispensing a bit of water into it.

“What?” She asked, handing it to Lance.

“Class? Last night?” Keith asked. Pidge arched an eyebrow, dumping espresso shots and protein powder into the blender. 

“I already had my free lesson,” Pidge said slowly, topping off the concoction with a few presses of hazelnut syrup before securing the lid. “You even let me drop Matt, which was great.”

“Yeah, but Veronica wants you back. She said your stance needs work, and you need to learn to throw a punch,” Keith said, then turned to Lance with an exasperated look. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

“Sorry,” Lance wheezed apologetically. “I forgot. Hey Pidge, Veronica wants you back at class until you can disarm and escape from somebody who’s holding you.”

“Oh...kay,” Pidge pushed the button on the blender, lips pursed. “But I hadn’t really considered going full-time yet.”

Keith shrugged. “Veronica is very pro-self-defense. You can probably say no to her if you really want, but I don’t think she’s meaning to charge you.”

The blender stopped and Pidge lifted the lid. “Um, no offense, but can she make decisions like that? The card says Takashi and Ryou Shirogane own the dojo.”

“That’s just what she lets them think,” Lance laughed. “Ryou and Shiro both have other, full-time jobs, so they do paperwork and help teach, but honestly? Veronica runs the place.”

“I don’t remember the last time they actually told her ‘no,’” Keith added. “I mean, they know what’s going on, but they trust Veronica to make sure everything happens.”

“It helps that her major is in Hospitality Management, with a minor in Accounting,” Lance grinned. “So she does actually know what she’s doing.”

Pidge hummed and poured drinks into cups. “Well, I’m busy this weekend, but… We’ll see,” She held up the whipped cream. “Whip?”

“Duh,” Lance said gleefully. “Speaking of ‘whip’, I hear you and my boy have plans for next weekend.”

Pidge paused, and Keith blinked at Lance in confusion.

“He did ask me out,” Pidge said, fighting down the blush trying to stain her cheeks. “But we hadn’t really talked about plans yet.”

“What does us going on a date have to do with whipped cream?” Keith asked incredulously.

“I don’t actually  _ know _ , maybe you guys could go out for sundaes or something!” Lance threw his hands into the air, exasperated. “It’s like 7:15 and I didn’t have a better segue — work with me.”

“Don’t worry Lance, I’ll ignore your social awkwardness,” Pidge replied solemnly. “Besides, you’re no worse than Matt.”

_ “Thank you,” _ Lance said fervently, taking the cup she held out to him and turning to Keith with a sniff. “At least somebody has tact.”

“Lord knows it isn’t you,” Keith rolled his eyes, accepting the cup Pidge handed him. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Pidge grinned, feeling inexplicably shy. “That would be great.”

“I’ll see you later, Pidgey.” Lance grinned, grasping Keith’s upper arm and forcibly hauling him away from the counter. “Come on, lover boy, I’ve still got to get you home before I head to work.”

Pidge waved at them as they headed out the door before moving back towards the cash register and smiling at the next customer. “Hello, welcome to The Daily Grind, how can I help you?”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Lance slid into the driver’s side of the jeep, jingling his keys in his palm as he turned to face Keith. “So, your little girlfriend hunts dogmen.”

“Shut up, Lance.” Keith slurped his drink and glared even as he reached back for his seatbelt.

“Are you gonna tell her?” Lance bit his lip but followed suit.

“No.”

“Who knows?” Lance continued cheerfully as he turned the keys in the ignition, “maybe she’s been chasing your furry butt around the woods for years now, and you just never knew!”

“Holy mother of toast,” Keith groaned, “stop.”

“Congrats on finding someone as weird as you!” Lance crowed. Keith slumped in the seat and slurped his drink loudly, pointedly ignoring Lance as he turned onto the road towards Keith’s house. They drove in silence for a few minutes until…

“I’m gonna tell her.”

“Lance!”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ryou scowled down at his tablet, silently willing the information he wanted to appear before him. But even as he waited, nothing changed. Without any of the standard information to go on, Ryou was reduced to sifting through the hundred-odd  _ Wassam, Adam _ s that were listed in the DMV database and trying to cross-reference those with the ones listed in the Supernatural Creatures Listing Index (SCLI). Shiro had at least managed to find Adam’s local address and the name of the architectural company he’d previously worked at, but they couldn’t really delve much further without either due cause or Adam’s permission.

“I need a hacker.” Ryou scrubbed his hands over his face with a groan.

“You need a what now?” Veronica asked, heels clicking on the linoleum as she strode into the dojo office. With the exception of Hunk’s preschool-aged classes in the mornings, the dojo was closed on full moons, so the building was empty. Ryou had stopped in during his lunch break to find Veronica already in the office, reviewing order sheets and billing statements.

“A hacker.” Ryou dropped the tablet with a frustrated sigh, accepting the sandwich the other woman handed him. “I don’t have the knowledge to break into databases, not even to just remote into somebody’s computer and find out prior housing info or a driver’s license number or  _ something _ that would make my job a little easier.”

“Hmm...” Veronica dropped into the office chair and they both winced as it squeaked loudly. “Sorry, fresh out. I could try checking the hotel records and seeing if he stayed there when he first arrived?”

“I’ll take it,” Ryou muttered. “Anything is better than slogging through each. Individual. Entry.”

“Aren’t you working on the Rogue case already?” Veronica bit into her sandwich, regarding the computer screen with narrowed eyes. Ryou heard her shoes hit the floor with a soft  _ thud _ as she toed them off under the desk.

“Yes,” Ryou said, “but this doesn’t technically fall under that purview, which is why it’s a side project.”

“Because he’s not a suspect,” Veronica mused.

“Correct.” Ryou nodded. “I don’t actually have anything tying him to the case, just the happenstance that he’s a packless Alpha who’s… Well, not even in the area we’re investigating, really. Everything is centered in the north-eastern corner, since that’s where he’s been roaming.”

“And without him being a suspect, all you can do is comb public databases.” Veronica sighed.

“Correct,” Ryou said wryly. “I can at least look through the SCLI for people with the same name who had residence in Colorado, or who might have recently transferred here, but that’s a flawed system, too.”

“Why is that?” Veronica asked, looking up from her screen with a puzzled frown.

“Because if he lived in Colorado, but never claimed residency, he wouldn’t show up,” Ryou said. “Or if he has a fairly common name—and ‘Adam Wassam’  _ is _ a fairly common name—that could still mean hundreds of entries.”

“What about cross-referencing those with werewolves who recently moved to Texas, or Corpus Christi?” Veronica asked.

“Again, flawed.” Ryou shook his head. “Allura is good about staying on top of it, but he has a full lunar cycle to check in, and she has the same amount of time past that to register him, and  _ then _ it has to be approved and the system updated, which can take up to an additional week.”

Veronica made a face. “Frustrating.”

“I just wanted to be a paladin,” Ryou grumbled. “Nobody told me it would involve so much fucking  _ paperwork. _ ”

“Real life is just a touch different than ‘Monsters and Mana,’” Veronica said dryly.

“Twelve year old me would be so disappointed.” Ryou sighed dramatically. “I thought Kolivan was the coolest person ever, who did nothing but chase bad guys and be a hero all day.”

“Shame on him for never telling you the error of your ways,” Veronica bit her lip.

“I wouldn’t have listened anyway,” Ryou admitted sadly. 

“So how many people are you talking right now?” Veronica asked, picking up her water bottle and twisting the lid off. 

“I’ve gotten it down from 230 to 115.” Ryou snorted. Veronica winced. “Yeah. It’s going to be a while.”

“How much time do you have left on lunch?” Veronica asked, glancing at her phone by her elbow.

“About…” Ryou frowned at his tablet. “Twenty minutes. Then I have to radio in and get back on patrol. What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Veronica shrugged. “I just wanted to go over last month’s books with you, but I can email the notes to you and Shiro instead.”

“I could go help Keith load up for later,” Ryou mused.

It was Friday, and the whole pack was heading up north of Corpus Christi for the month’s run later on. And while they could, and had, simply stow their clothes in somebody’s car and run in their wolf skins for the weekend, they had also found it was a lot more comfortable with an actual  _ campsite _ to return to for hot food and a soft place to sleep.

Keith liked to tease them about being “domesticated” but Ryou noticed that he also packed a foam roll for under his sleeping bag, so he had no room to talk.

“You could also do that,” Veronica said, looking amused. “Lance is coming with this time, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if he’s planning on using Keith’s bike to run with us, or staying at the site to relax and do his own thing,” Ryou shrugged.

“I think he’s staying,” Veronica said. “Shiro is...antsy. He’ll feel better if the campsite is protected.”

Ryou nodded. Even if he felt that Shiro was being overly-protective (and he didn’t), an Alpha’s protective instincts weren’t anything a pack member would ignore without good reason. “He’s a good boy.”

“Not so much a ‘boy’ anymore,” Veronica teased. “He’s gone twenty, and he and Keith have been together...how long?”

“Don’t sass me; I still remember when he was ten and his ears were too big for his head,” Ryou said fondly. “And he and Keith have been together in one sense or another since the moment they met.”

“Hm. Speaking of,” Veronica abandoned her sandwich entirely to lean over and prop her chin on the heel of her hand, dark eyes gleaming as her long fingers curled against her chin, “what do you think of the latest development?”

“Hm?” Ryou glanced up, confused, and Veronica rolled her eyes. 

“The little Holt girl? Katie?” She asked. 

“Um…” Ryou cast about, wondering what Veronica was expecting from him. “She seems nice? I see what Keith meant about her smelling ‘off’—there’s definitely something unique there. But I got the same note from the brother, so it might just be a family thing.”

“Oh my gods,  _ men, _ ” Veronica huffed. 

“What?” Ryou asked.

“Nothing,” Veronica shook her head.

“Tell me,” Ryou insisted.

“You’ll figure it out—don’t worry, it’s nothing dangerous. Unlike me.” Veronica smirked. “Now, did you want to go over last month’s books, or not?”


	7. The Camping Trip from Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge glanced up, protests dying on her lips as Matt quirked an eyebrow at her. Pidge, however, wasn’t seeing her brother’s confused skepticism. Instead, she was seeing something shining in the darkness over his shoulder.
> 
> “Matt,” she whispered, feeling a cold shiver skate down her spine, “Matt, there’s something—”
> 
> It leapt.

Matt pulled off of the road and into the dirt, driving around a small copse of scraggly trees before shifting the car into park. Turning to observe his sister in the passenger seat, Matt made a face as Pidge continued to snore softly. Unbuckling his seat belt, Matt climbed out of the car and stretched as he took in his surroundings.

The outcropping of trees he’d steered around was part of a larger group that grew around the creek that was winding its way sluggishly through the open prairie. Hardy desert grasses and a few thorny bushes grew in the relative shade of the trees, and the whole thing offered the humans in the middle protection from the harsh desert wind, if not from the sun beating down on them. Still, Matt thought, they could park in the shade after supplies were unloaded, and could take advantage of it while they waited for the sun to finish it’s descent.

He’d driven further than he normally would have, to let Katie get some extra rest — going out to watch the Perseid meteor shower wouldn’t be any good if she fell asleep before they could really see anything. However, despite the extended nap, Pidge was still deeply asleep. Matt hummed as he considered his options.

He could work on setting up their campsite — there wasn’t really much to do, they were only out here for tonight, but they’d brought everything they needed, including wood for a campfire, a cooler of snacks, and a tent. He could wake his sister up and make her help, but then he’d have to deal with her stumbling around if she wasn’t fully rested. He could also get it done himself while she caught a little extra sleep, but they’d brought a tent, and even if he _could_ get it up by himself, he didn’t really _want_ to.

Compromise, he decided. He’d start pulling things out of the car and and setting up. If Pidge wasn’t awake before he got to the tent, _then_ he’d poke the bear. Satisfied with his decision, he turned to open the trunk, never noticing the eyes watching him from the other side of the creek.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Hunk shook his head in amusement as the rest of the pack practically _spilled_ out the cars in a tumble of barely-leashed energy. Really, what were they, puppies? Even Lance looked jittery—which honestly wasn’t too unusual, Lance was always fairly energetic—but his eyes were glowing a little _too_ much in the waning afternoon light for it to be completely natural, and as he grinned at Hunk, Hunk felt his own adrenaline start spiking. Tolerantly, Hunk tapped his finger next to his eyes. 

“Dude, chill out,” he chided gently, then felt immediately guilty as Lance’s grin froze. “You’re leaning.”

Lance closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they were back to their normal bright blue.

“Sorry, man,” he said, grimacing. “I don’t mean to.”

“I know you don’t—full moon,” Hunk nodded understandingly. “I’m just glad you’re in a good mood!”

“It would suck if he were angry or depressed,” Ryou mused, opening the tailgate of the truck to start unloading supplies.

“Because we’ve _never_ had that happen before,” Veronica added, rolling her eyes as she hefted the cooler Ryou handed her. Lance stuck his tongue out before moving to help.

Shiro was already off, pacing the perimeter of their chosen campsite, looking for any hidden dangers. He’d chosen a place near a water source, out of consideration for Lance, though they were a ways away from where the stream swelled and dumped into the lake. Still, there was enough water that gnarled trees and stubborn bushes were growing along it, and the group had pulled into a natural-made grove created by the bend.

“How are you so calm, anyway?” Lance asked Hunk, ignoring his sister as he took a couple of foam rolls from Hunk. “Aren’t weres supposed to get hyped? Why aren’t you hyped?”

“I am hyped,” Hunk said good-naturedly, though he rolled his eyes a little. “I’m just not as energetic as everyone else. Plus I’ve been up since, like, five.”

“Bet you haven’t been as busy as we have.” Keith grinned at him as he took the second cooler. 

“If what you two were doing was _more_ energetic than dealing with seven preschoolers, I don’t want to know about it,” Hunk decided, nodding seriously.

“You really don’t,” Shiro added, pulling a small card table from the back of the truck and unfolding it. “I got to hear it, and that was bad enough.”

“We were quiet!” Lance protested, frowning.

Shiro shrugged. “Not like I _care_ , really. I just decided that I would go downstairs and get breakfast before the gym.”

“I care,” Veronica grumbled. “It was bad enough having to live through Marco and Luis’ escapades—I don’t want to hear about Lance’s.” She paused, head tilted consideringly. "Or _hear_ Lance's. _Or_ Keith's."

“And we went to the gym afterwards,” Keith added, pulling out an atlas and setting it on the table next to a bag of marshmallows. “Plus coffee before Lance had to get to work.”

“So, what I’m hearing is everybody has a lot of energy but nobody had to deal with a pack of preschoolers,” Hunk said dryly. “Is that right?”

“Are they even shifters?” Lance asked curiously. “Or were they just, like, normal kids?”

“If you think normal children aren’t as hyper as supernatural ones, buddy are you in for a surprise,” Hunk replied. “Now, somebody get some rocks so we can set up the campsite.”

The campsite came together with the ease of familiarity and long-practice. Soon the firepit was set up, ringed in rocks with a small cone of wood inside and ready to be lit. Coolers and foldable chairs were set around it to sit on, and the large, ten-person tent was set up and stuffed with foam flooring and unzipped sleeping bags making a single, large bed. As the sun sank lower in the sky, they lit the fire and cooked hot dogs before gathering around the atlas.

“So, we’re taking off in a north, north-east direction.” Shiro gestured to the page, then flipped it to continue pointing. “I’m not sure how far out we’ll go, honestly, but the idea is to avoid the campground to the south, the city to the west, and that rancher’s house over between the two.”

“So, don’t cross the road,” Ryou said around a mouthful of hot dog, “or you risk running into ambitious campers. The rancher shouldn’t be out after moonrise — he’s got couple of small children who will be in bed for the night, but we don’t want to spook his cows and cause a ruckus, either.”

“None of the cows are on the range, are they?” Lance asked, eyeing the map warily. “Because I don’t want to wake up with Bessie or whatever in my face. Again.” 

“Sources indicate that the cows are being pastured nearby the property,” Ryou drawled, “but given that my information is three days old, that may no longer be accurate. Sorry, Lance, guess you’ll have to sleep in the tent.”

“I don’t know if I can — I’ve got a ton of energy. I kind of wish we’d brought the bike,” Lance said forlornly. “I’d like to run with the pack tonight.”

“We’ll come out again soon,” Keith said, nudging Lance’s shoulder with his own. “We can go just the two of us, or see if Hunk wants to come along. Maybe Axca will come down to visit.”

“That would be fun,” Lance said, “but I’ve still got a ton of energy _now._ ”

“You could set some wards,” Veronica suggested helpfully. “Didn’t you bring some things that needed cleansing, or charging? There’s plenty of things you could do to wear yourself out some."

“ _G-rated things,_ ” Ryou added sharply as Lance started to open his mouth. “I do not want to come back and discover that you alleviated your boredom by watching porn on your phone.”

“You suck all the joy out of my life,” Lance sighed dramatically. 

“Wards would actually be nice,” Shiro added thoughtfully. “It would make me feel better about leaving you here alone.”

“Adam is not waiting in the bushes, Shiro,” Ryou scolded, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not saying he is!” Shiro snapped back. “Just that I would feel better if Lance had some protection.”

“I’m not helpless, you know,” Lance grumbled, but Keith spoke over him.

“Adam?” He asked, looking between the two brothers. “Isn’t that the new guy at your workplace, Shiro?”

“The new Alpha, yes,” Shiro scowled.

“I thought he hadn’t done anything wrong?” Keith frowned. “Besides being a jackass.”

“He hasn’t, that we know of,” Shiro scrubbed a hand over his face, exasperated. “And I don’t think he’s hiding in the bushes, either. _Ryou._ ” 

“So what’s going on, then?” Veronica asked Shiro, eyeing him speculatively. 

“I don’t _know,_ ” Shiro said plaintively. “I know that the rogue is probably still up in the Sam Houston area—or is if they’re smart, anyway—and that Adam is probably just a coincidence. But it’s still got me on edge.”

“Alright, I’ll do wards.” Lance said, shrugging. “It’s not like I don’t have time to kill and energy to burn, and if it makes you feel better, too, than yay. Wins all around.”

“Thanks, Lance,” Shiro said gratefully, “that would make me feel a lot better.”

“Not a problem. Got the pack? Who’s wearing it tonight?” Lance asked.

“Not Keith!” Everyone chorused, and Keith flushed. Keith’s predilection to forgetting he was wearing the pack was well known.

“I’ll take it,” Hunk said. “I don’t think I’ll be doing as much rolling on the ground or falling into cacti as these guys.”

“One time,” Keith muttered, “ _one time._ ”

“One time you fell into a cactus,” Shiro said dryly.

“It’s far from the _only_ time you’ve tried to find creative ways to kill yourself,” Ryou added. “Some days I’m surprised Krolia let you out of her sight.”

“ _Skunk_ ,” added Veronica succinctly. 

“Um, no offense big guy, but I don’t really think it’s gonna fit,” Lance ignored the byplay to address Hunk. “It’s made for wolves, not bears.”

“I’ll carry it,” Shiro volunteered.

“No, I will,” Veronica waved off his protests. “You really need to do some ranging, and get it out of your system. I’ll just stick with Ryou and Keith.”

“She says, as if she won’t take the first opportunity to bowl Ryou over and wrestle,” Keith quipped.

“I’m taking the pack, and that’s final,” Shiro frowned, fishing the pack out of the bag next to the table as Veronica and Keith made faces at each other behind his back.

“Great,” Lance rolled his eyes. “Now that that’s settled…”

Keith was already pulling his shirt over his head, and Lance took a moment to admire the way his muscles shifted under his skin as he did. The view got even better when he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pants, unceremoniously shoving them down and kicking them off. Next to him, Hunk was folding his clothes shirt politely, button on his jeans already popped as he toed off his shoes. Oblivious, Keith bent over to pick up his pile of clothing and Lance grinned.

And then a shirt slapped him in the face.

“Stop drooling,” Veronica said, wrinkling her nose in disgust as Lance glared at her.

“You say that,” Keith teased, stuffing his clothes into the duffle bag as he gave her a sidelong glance, “but _I_ know—” 

“Shut. _Up,_ ” Veronica hissed, tossing him her clothing to add to the dirty laundry pile.

Lance rolled his eyes at their antics, but didn’t look away. Between weres and witches, he’d _grown up_ with nudity—seeing naked flesh didn’t bother him, even if he had a healthy appreciation for it (at least, when it wasn’t his sister’s).

“I could charge the wards skyclad,” he mused aloud.

Hunk shrugged, the deepening twilight turning his already tan skin dusky as the sun sank below the horizon. “I mean, not like anybody here is gonna care.”

“You could also light the campfire, since it’s getting dark,” Keith said.

Lane made a face. “Hi, I don’t know if we’ve met,” he said sarcastically, letting his power well up, knowing it made his eyes glow all the more brightly in the fading light. “I’m Lance, the _water mage._ If you need someone to help you win friends and influence people, I’m your guy. Setting fires? Not my niche.”

“No,” Keith rolled his eyes, “but you’re kind of standing by the lighter.”

Ryou sniggered.

“Yuck it up, power pup,” Lance grumbled.

Keith grinned at him, his eyes flashing gold in the twilight as his form shivered, blurring slightly as hair sprouted and features rearranged. A series of sharp cracks sounded, dropping him forward onto newly formed paws, his dark tail wagging behind him. Keith huffed, tongue lolling in a wolfish grin as the rest of the pack shifted around them.

They were magnificent, Lance thought, and it wasn’t just pride in his adopted pack coloring his judgement. Keith and Ryou were pitch black, though Ryou was larger and more muscular than Keith. Veronica was the obvious outlier: female, smaller, and tawny brown where her packmates were dark. Though “smaller” was relative (she still came up to Lance’s waist), she looked positively _diminutive_ next to Hunk, who dwarfed everybody as a full grown grizzly bear. 

Shiro, though, stood apart from the all. Obviously the largest wolf, with red Alpha eyes, Shiro’s shock of white hair had translated to a white-tipped ears and a few stray white hairs along his muzzle. The most amazing thing, however, was his leg. Allura had outdone herself on whatever spell she had put on his arm, to allow it to shift with him.

Keith huffed again, rubbing along Lance’s hip, and Lance dropped to a knee to allow him better access, rubbing his wrist over the soft fur of his cheek before reaching up to scratch his ears. Veronica was next, dragging her face along Lance’s arm, and snuffling his collarbone before deliberately licking a wet stripe up the side of his face. 

“Oh, gross!” Lance complained, shoving his sister away. “You’re disgusting!”

Shiro and Ryou “laughed” as they bumped against him and even Hunk chuffed off to the side. Lance turned to his friend, scowling in mock-outrage.

“What?” he demanded, thumping his chest. “You want a piece of this? Huh? You think you can take _me_ on?”

Hunk blinked, jaw stretching in an approximation of a grin before he slowly, deliberately, rose to his full height—almost ten feet tall. More huffing and chuffing noises approximated laughter as the pack pranced around them, sniffing the ground and scenting each other, tails wagging in anticipation of the run ahead. 

“Right, yeah, point proven,” Lance rolled his eyes as Hunk dropped back to all fours and approached with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Oh, hell no—you’ll take off half my face, man. Just get out of here before somebody knocks something over, would you?”

Hunk “laughed” again, gently butting his head against Lance’s chest (though that still nearly tipped him over) before turning to regard Shiro. The Alpha seemed to take this as his signal, tipping his head back and loosing a long howl that the rest of the pack (sans Hunk) echoed, before leaping away into the night.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The night was pretty much perfect as far as Pidge was concerned. They had a campfire going despite the heat that still lingered, but were currently facing away from it, kicked back in portable lounge chairs with drinks in hand while they watched meteors streak across the night sky. The cooler between them sported a citronella candle and a open bag of chips while a half-empty bottle of rum and a few sodas chilled inside. Matt’s phone lay next to the candle, his playlist on shuffle as background noise while they watched the stars and picked out their favorite constellations. 

“You don’t have much to say,” Matt commented idly, eyes not leaving the sky as he sipped his drink.

“I mean, I see you every day,” Pidge shrugged. 

“Mostly,” Matt agreed. “Though today you just kind of fell into the car, babbled about rover, and started drooling on my upholstery.”

“It was an awesome breakthrough,” Pidge agreed. “And aside from Hunk, you probably understand what I said the most.”

“I didn’t know that you and Hunk were such good friends.” Matt glanced at his sister out of the side of his eye skeptically.

“We’re...not?” Pidge made a face. “He’s in my Robotics class on Mondays, and we’ve started sitting together. He’s nice.”

“Nicer than Keith?” Matt smirked. “Or Lance?”

“I know what you’re doing,” Pidge pursed her lips and turned to mock-glare at her brother, “and it won’t work.”

“What am I doing?” Matt wondered aloud.

“Being _nosy._ ”

“It’s my job,” Matt said primly. “I’m your big brother. Boyfriend vetting duties are _mine_ by default.”

“And who, precisely, are you vetting?” Pidge asked. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“ _Yet_ ,” Matt muttered. “And I’m vetting...everyone. You went from hidden behind a computer screen and speaking in binary to regularly talking to not one, not two, but _three_ guys.”

“Yes,” Pidge rolled her eyes. “I’m starting my own harem. Totally.”

“I don’t have enough rum for this.” Matt shook his head and stared forlornly into his cup.

“You started it!” Pidge protested. 

“I regret everything.” Matt grimaced. “Tell me something else.”

“Lance has very cool hands,” Pidge said, sipping her drink.

“....What?” Matt blinked, head turning fully to stare at her.

“Like, temperature wise.” Pidge waved her hand in his direction. “I spilled some espresso on my hand this morning, and normally it would sting for a few days but he rubbed my hand and it feels...better?”

“...How much rum do _you_ have in your coke?” Matt asked bluntly.

“You made it! You tell me!” Pidge said, thrusting her hand out towards her brother. 

“Not enough for _that,_ ” Matt grumbled, leaning over and grabbing her hand, dragging it towards the little candle before huffing and picking up his phone to look for the flashlight app. “...Pidge, what are you talking about? There’s no burn on your hand.”

“Yes there is,” Pidge protested. “The temperature of that espresso shot I dumped on myself was probably about a hundred and forty degrees, there’s no way it didn’t—”

Matt shined the light on her unblemished hand.

“That’s—” Pidge stared, then quickly brought her other hand up to examine. “There’s no _way—”_

“There’s no burn, Pidge.” Matt shook his head. “Maybe it wasn’t as hot as you thought?”

“No way,” Pidge shook her head. “I _know_ the temperature of an espresso shot, Matt, and I’ve certainly dumped enough onto myself to know that they—”

Pidge glanced up, protests dying on her lips as Matt quirked an eyebrow at her. Pidge, however, wasn’t seeing her brother’s confused skepticism. Instead, she was seeing something shining in the darkness over his shoulder.

“Matt,” she whispered, feeling a cold shiver skate down her spine, “Matt, there’s something—”

It leapt.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Keith was sniffing along the ground, investigating an owl burrow, when he heard the scream.

It was late: they’d spent the first hour or so running, tumbling and generally burning off energy. Veronica had, predictably, tried to headbutt Ryou off of the first decent embankment they had come across. He’d managed to dodge her (and Keith would _relish_ telling Lance later how his sister had tumbled down the hill while Ryou stood at the top gloating), but she’d gotten her revenge later when they’d been moving through the trees and she’d managed to knock him into the stream they’d been running alongside. The two had fallen into the muddy stream in a tangle of limbs and teeth, water and silt flying before they had finally climbed out, dripping and dirty. Now they were all simply ranging around, scaring up small creatures and chasing rabbits in the moonlight. Hunk was lumbering along somewhere behind them, and Shiro maintaining a sedate pace nearby. 

Hunk and Shiro would probably turn back soon—Keith was rather surprised Hunk hadn’t headed back already. Unlike wolves, who were built to range and had fantastic stamina, bears weren’t big travelers. Keith had last seen Hunk lumbering through the trees that grew along the water, rubbing against them and stopping occasionally to rake his claws down the trunks of some of the sturdier-looking ones. He’d probably gotten distracted.

Shiro’s makeshift leg hindered his movements and despite the repellant spells that had been added to it, sand would eventually get into the joints and interfere with his movement, so he tended to stay out of the play and would go slower to avoid kicking up dirt when he could. It wasn’t a perfect system—nothing could replace the arm Shiro had lost—but it was better than nothing. Still, the day after a run meant removal and a thorough cleaning of his limb, and the less grit to dig out the better. 

There’d been a split-second where he’d thought the scream had been animal—that one of the pack had taken out a rabbit or something, and he was hearing it’s death cry. Then there’d been a second, _longer_ scream, and Keith abruptly realized that the sound was _human._

He’d taken off running as he followed the sound out of the open ground and back towards the woods Hunk had been investigating. As he entered the trees, the scent of blood wafted through the air, followed by the full-throated roar of an enraged grizzly. Alarmed, Keith sprinted, weaving through the trees as a howl sounded behind him, followed by a second and third as Ryou and Veronica took up the call. Keith forcibly bit back his answer as he leapt over the stream, unwilling to give away his presence as he darted towards the ongoing fight up ahead. 

Once he was out of the trees, Keith had only a second to take in the scene—Hunk, with his massive form silhouetted in the firelight as he bared his teeth and snarled at the wolf darting around him. Two campers were on the other side of the flames, blood smeared darkly on clothing and clogging the air with its thick, metallic scent. Keith sprinted in, plowing into the larger wolf and using his momentum to knock it into the fire. It yelped as it rolled, limbs flailing and sending flaming sticks and showers of sparks flying, and Keith followed, trying to get his teeth on or claws in the soft throat or belly. 

It’s strength was terrifying; it kicked Keith off easily, darting after him even as he regained his feet, trying to go low to knock him onto his back. It partially succeeded, sending Keith stumbling back, but was foiled by its own height which prevented it from getting low enough to upend him completely. Keith’s agility worked in his favor, allowing him to twist mid-air and come down, stumbling but upright, hind legs digging into the dirt for traction even as his lips pulled back from his fangs in a snarl. 

Hunk had gone around the fire, positioning himself between the rogue were and the terrified campers, teeth bared and growling loudly as he swiped at the wolf’s exposed flank with a massive paw. The other werewolf darted back, eyes flashing red and muzzle dark with blood as they snarled. Keith paused, shocked, but then darted to join Hunk, pushing the rogue—the _Alpha_ —back and away from the campers, herding him towards the direction the others would be coming from.

Another howl sounded, and the wolf apparently decided that an entire wolf pack plus an enraged grizzly was more than they had bargained for, abruptly turning and darting out of the circle and into the trees. Keith hesitated, torn between whether to go after them or help the campers, when Ryou thundered into the clearing, Veronica hot on his heels. He glanced at Keith and Hunk, scarcely pausing as he sprinted past them and into the trees, Veronica still close behind him as they pursued the rogue together.

Keith panted, debating whether to follow, but if anyone aside from Shiro was capable of handling an Alpha, it would be Ryou. And Veronica might be small, but she was _quick_ , and worked well with Ryou. They would be fine, together. Keith spun around, turning towards the scent of blood and the sound of harsh panting and thudding heartbeats.

One figure was lying prone on the ground, groaning quietly as blood pooled underneath them, one arm bent at an unnatural angle. The second was in much better condition, on their feet, braced with a cheap folding chair in front of them and a metal marshmallow roasting fork brandished in front of them. Wild-eyed and panicked, with blood smeared across her torso and exuding terror, Keith almost didn’t recognize her until the scent hit him. Keith shuddered out of his wolf skin and stared in horror.

_“Pidge?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*Cackles gleefully*_
> 
> I am _so stoked_ to have finally gotten here! These next few chapters are the ones I've been waiting for!


	8. A Point of Frantic Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s a bear,” Pidge muttered. “Of course it’s a bear. We’re being attacked by the big, bad wolf and saved by Winnie the Pooh’s wild cousin. Oh my god.”

Pidge had barely time enough to gasp as a wolf had emerged from the shadows beyond the fire, red-eyed and wild as it lunged towards them. It had been on them before she could blink, grabbing Matt’s shoulder and dragging him sideways off of his chair with a sickening crack. Matt’s yelp had been cut off as it shook him, teeth tearing into soft tissue and jerking her brother around like he was nothing more than a chew toy.

She had screamed, snatching up the candle and flinging it at the creature, hitting it in the side and startling it. It had paused long enough for her to react, kicking Matt’s upended chair at it in an effort to get it away from her brother, who lay dazed and bleeding on the ground. It lept back out of the way, teeth bared in a blood-stained snarl as it glared at her, eyes gleaming malevolent, startling crimson in the low light.

“Get back!” Pidge yelled, snatching up the other folding chair and flinging it. The wolf (because it  _ was _ a wolf, a bloody  _ huge  _ wolf, why were there  _ wolves _ in Texas?) dodged it contemptuously, dancing aside before turning back to her.

_ ‘Is this even how to respond to a wolf attack?’ _ Pidge thought frantically—it wasn’t precisely something she’d ever considered. However, throwing the chairs had the desired effect of driving it away from her brother, who turned pained eyes towards her.

“Katie,” he gasped, “get away!”

“Like hell!” Pidge snarled, baring her own teeth in a poor imitation, snatching up the next thing that came to hand—a piece of firewood—and throwing that. The wolf dodged that too, growling, it’s sleek grey fur gleaming in the firelight.

“Pidge!” Matt shoved himself upright with his good arm.  _ “Run!” _

“I’m not leaving you!” Katie grabbed another piece of firewood, wishing they weren’t so small as she tossed it. Luckily, the next thing that came to her hand was a metal fork—one of the long ones meant for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. It wasn’t much, but it was better than the various sticks that they’d collected for their small fire. Sturdier, at least.

Matt was mostly upright, taking advantage of the wolf’s split focus to grab the chair that had landed nearby, shoving it at the wolf to divide it’s attention, kicking dirt at it as he yelled. The wolf responded by leaping at him, teeth snapping over the top of the folding chair as Matt pulled it closer in an effort to prevent the wolf from biting him. The weight of the animal knocked him over, pinning him underneath the chair.

“Get away from him!” Pidge screamed, lunging forward and driving the prongs of the fork into the wolf’s side. It yelped, dodging out of the way, and Matt screamed as it’s claws dug into his torso when it scrambled aside. Pidge pulled her bloody fork back, waving it menacingly as she took another step, hoping that the pain would drive the animal off.

It turned, Matt forgotten, and somehow Pidge knew that she had just earned its ire. A wave of cold dread washed over her as it leapt, barreling into her and knocking her to the ground, driving the air out of her lungs. It stood over her, one paw coming down on her chest, eyes glowing red as it growled, lips peeling back from it’s fangs in a bloody display as it brought it’s face closer to hers. Pidge reacted without thought, eyes squeezing shut as her lungs heaved, screaming as loudly as she could and bringing a closed fist up to knock into the side of its head instinctively—anything to get those teeth away from her.

The weight lifted off of her and Pidge’s eyes shot open just in time to see a massive paw reach out and swat the wolf off of her. The wolf tumbled, yelping, as the bear dropped to all four and loosed a full-throated roar. Pidge rolled to her side, willing her lungs to suck in air and for reality to reassert itself as the two animals collided. 

Shoving shaking arms underneath herself, Pidge vaguely wondered when her night had turned into a bad horror movie as she scrambled over to Matt, who was trying to drag himself out from under the broken chair. As Katie pushed the chair off of him, it was obvious that he was hurt: blood soaked his shirt where the wolf had bitten him, his arm was bent oddly above his elbow, and there were more wounds where the wolf’s claws had torn open his shirt. Matt was shaking, barely conscious, good hand clutching at his injured shoulder as he grimaced.

“Is that a  _ Grizzly bear? _ ” He asked faintly, drawing his legs up as he tried to push himself away from two masses of fur and teeth that had somehow moved to the other side of the campfire.

The two weren’t actually  _ fighting _ , as far as Katie could see. Sure, there was a confrontation of some sort going on, but as big as the wolf was, it was still smaller than the bear. Instead of a full-on attack, it was darting around the other animal, growling and snarling, ears laid flat as it looked for an opening. The bear was larger, and stronger, but the wolf was smaller and more agile—and was using that to their advantage.

“It’s a bear,” Pidge muttered. “Of course it’s a bear. We’re being attacked by the big, bad wolf and saved by Winnie the Pooh’s wild cousin. Oh my god.”

And they were trapped. Matt’s keys were still in his car, but the bear and the wolf were between them and the vehicle. Pidge licked her lips nervously. Maybe if they ran…? 

“Can you stand?” She whispered, crouching behind Matt to try and tug him upright. They made it halfway up, but as soon as Matt put his weight on his left leg, it buckled and he sank to the ground with a groan.

More howls sounded off in the distance, and Pidge shivered in fear.

“Get in the car,” he implored her, braced on his good arm and squinting as he tried to focus. Distantly, Pidge noticed his glasses had been lost somewhere in the scuffle. “Get safe.”

“No,” Pidge snapped, casting around for some type of weapon. Or a phone—Matt had been holding his when the wolf had grabbed him, but the flashlight had been on, so maybe—? But wherever it had landed, it was screen-up, and Pidge couldn’t see it anywhere. Matt’s head lolled, arm giving out as his eyes slid shut.

“Matt? Matt!” Pidge yelped, alarmed.  _ Blood loss, _ her panicked mind supplied even as she rose to try to drag him backwards, further away from the danger. She didn’t make it far—Matt was damn heavy and her ribs were aching fiercely, leaving her gasping for breath before they’d made it more than a few feet. The gleam of metal caught her eye and grimly, Pidge lurched back towards the fork, snatching it up and retreating to stand in front of her brother as she waited to see how the situation would play out.

A second wolf emerged from the shadows, pitch black and silent, visible for only a split-second before it plowed into the first wolf, sending it flying. It landed in the remains of their campfire, sending sparks and embers into the air. It yelped as the interloper pressed their advantage, teeth snapping as it leapt after them. The gray wolf kicked the darker one aside and Pidge clenched her jaw on a scream as a large shape blocked her view, only to realize that the bear’s back was between them and the brawling pair, apparently having dismissed them entirely as it focused on the fight between the two wolves.

Why weren’t the wolves working together? Pidge wondered. Wouldn’t that make more sense? Weren’t wolves pack animals?

Pidge inched to the side, grabbing the much-abused piece of cloth and scrap that had been a folding chair and moving it in front of them as quietly as possible. Not that she really thought it would do much, but at least it was  _ something _ —maybe the bear, or the wolf, or whoever came after them next would get caught up in it, or trip over it, and let them get away.

_ Or use it as a toothpick after they eat you.  _ Pidge shuddered as a short howl sounded out in the night. Unexpectedly, the grey wolf decided that maybe it had taken enough of a beating and broke off, darting out of the circle of light and into the trees. The bear shifted to the side and Pidge caught sight of the dark wolf sprinting after it, a smaller brown wolf hot on its heels as they disappeared into the darkness. 

Leaving them with the bear, Katie thought grimly. Bringing up her poor little camping fork as the animal turned around, Pidge was dismayed to see that the black wolf she’d seen cashing their attacker  _ hadn’t _ been the one she had thought: instead it had been a third wolf, leaving the other behind as the two creatures turned to stare at them.

Matt groaned on the ground behind her, and Katie gulped.

Then — as if the situation weren’t bizarre enough  _ already _ — the wolf shuddered, rising up onto its hind legs, fur shivering out of existence as a familiar face emerged to gape at her.

_ “Pidge?” _ Keith said, looking horrified. He started forward, and Pidge shrank back, raising her fork with a whimper. Keith, completely nude, ignored the threat as his eyes dropped to Matt and he blanched.

“Hunk!” He yelped, scrambling forward and dropping to his knees next to her as he reached for Matt, “Hunk, get over here, he needs help!”

_ Hunk? _ Pidge’s head swung around, looking for the other boy, and she could only wheeze when the bear disappeared, shrinking down to reveal her classmate. Also naked, a corner of her brain noted as he darted forward.

“Aw man, this isn’t good,” he groaned, pushing her aside and reaching out to touch Matt gingerly. “Where’s Shiro?”

_ Shiro was in on this? _ Pidge could only squeak and drop her fork as a fourth wolf emerged, gleaming silver leg morphing into a familiar robotic arm between one breath and the next.

“What happened?” he demanded, dropping next to Keith.

“The Rogue. We need to stop the bleeding, now,” Keith bit out, pressing his hand to Matt’s shoulder, ignoring the way he thrashed as he looked up at Pidge. “Do you have a first aid kit? Bandages, gauze, something to put pressure on the wound and absorb the blood.”

“Our first aid kit is bandaids in the glove box,” Pidge said. “I have a change of clothes in my backpack—”

Hunk was already moving, so Pidge knelt down next to Keith, hands fluttering helplessly as she grit her teeth in frustration. Across from her, Shiro was shrugging off a small pack, pulling it around in front of himself and yanking out a phone. Swiping a finger across it, he waited impatiently for the screen to load, then tapped it a few times.

_ “What’s up?” _ Lance’s voice crackled over the speaker as Hunk emerged from the tent clutching Pidge’s back pack, kneeling down next to her and passing Keith the nightshirt she’d packed to sleep in before carefully placing the rest of the bag under Matt’s feet.

Of  _ course _ Lance was involved, Pidge thought, feeling a bit hysterical. Keith had said he was spending the weekend with his family, Lance had said he was spending the weekend with Keith—the only  _ real  _ question, Pidge thought, was what animal was Lance running around as? Keith and Shiro were family, and both black wolves—maybe Lance was the brown wolf that had run past.

“Lance, we’ve got a problem,” Shrio responded as Keith wadded up the shirt and pressed it against Matt’s shoulder. “The Rogue attacked two campers. We’re about—” Shiro paused, looking around, “—five miles north, north-west of your location, opposite side of the river.”

Keith reached out, plucking the phone from Shiro’s hand. “Lance, bring Ryou’s truck—it has a first aid kit in the back, and I need the lights. Matt needs to get to a doctor.”

_ “Matt?” _ Lance’s voice squawked over the speaker. 

“Yeah,” Keith glanced at her as he continued speaking. “The campers the Rogue attacked—it’s Matt and Pidge.”

Lance could be heard cursing. “I’ve got your coordinates. I’m on my way.”

Keith grimaced, setting the phone on the ground and looked at Pidge. “It’s probably still going to take him about fifteen minutes to get here,” he started.

“You said he was five miles away,” Pidge protested.

“Forest,” Shiro said shortly. “He’s got to get through the trees, which will probably mean going back to the road unless there’s a break he can get through and still get up the incline of the river banks.”

“I-I knew that,” Pidge mumbled, shoving her hands into her hair and pushing it back. “I did.”

“It’s been a big night,” Hunk soothed, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Completely understandable.”

“But Matt needs help  _ now, _ ” Keith said, eyeing her warily. “So I need you to hold it together a little longer. Can you do that?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Pidge nodded. “What do you need?”

“You don’t have a first aid kit, but we need to get these wounds as clean as we can, categorize his injuries and do what we can to treat him for shock,” Keith said seriously. “Do you have water? Bottled, warm or room temperature?”

“Yeah, in the trunk,” Pidge pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the way her knees shook. “How much do you need?”

“Hunk can get it,” Keith said. “I want you to go into the tent and get the sleeping bags, or foam rolls or whatever. I want to have something to cover him with and to elevate his feet.”

“On it,” Hunk said, mindless of his nakedness as he rose and headed for the car. Pidge blinked, and pressed her lips together, before nodding and hurrying towards the tent. When she returned, Matt’s shirt had been sliced off and Shiro was holding Matt still while Hunk held a flashlight aloft. Everybody looked grim as pink-tinged water sluiced off of her brother and turned the ground to mud beneath them.

“Open one up, lay it out.” Keith told her, while Hunk took the second bag to help prop up Matt’s feet higher. He jerked his chin to the side, to indicate a section of ground closer to the smoldering campfire. “Once we can safely move him, we need to do that.”

As Pidge was doing that, two more wolves emerged from the darkness, and a second later, Ryou and Veronica were crouched next to Shiro.

“We’ve got a problem,” Ryou said without preamble. “Is Lance on the way?”

“We’ve got a few,” Shiro corrected him wryly. “And yes.”

“Good.” Ryou snatched up the phone from the ground and hit the button.

_ “What is it?” _ Lance’s voice picked up after the second ring.  _ “Kinda driving here.” _

“What’s your ETA?” Ryou asked.

_ “GPS says three minutes out,” _ Lance replied, and distantly they heard a horn sound. 

“Good.” Ryou hung up and chewed his lip nervously. “Shiro, the Rogue got away.”

“I gathered that, since they aren’t with you,” Shiro replied. “What happened?”

“They disappeared,” Ryou scowled. “No scent, no tracks, nothing.”

Shiro swore. “So they had assistance.”

“Yes,” Ryou glanced up as a silver pickup truck drove into the clearing, parking next to Matt’s Hyundai. Without another word, he strode towards it.

“Lance, grab the first aid kit!” Keith called as the driver’s side door opened. Wordlessly, Lance turned, climbing into the bed and pulling open the toolbox positioned under the back window.

“Ryou’s on the radio,” Shiro reported. “He’s calling for backup, and for emergency services to meet us enroute to the city.”

“Supers?” Keith asked, grabbing the bag from Lance and yanking it open.

“Probably,” Shiro said. “Since this is a Rogue, and not a run-of-the-mill accident.”

“Good,” Keith grunted, grabbing a moldable splint and starting to work it under Matt’s neck. “We’re gonna need it.”

“Do you need hemostatic dressing?” Lance asked, moving to crouching next to Keith as Shiro moved to stand by Hunk. Everyone winced as Ryou flipped on the floodlights of the truck, and Pidge repressed the urge to whimper as the harsh light illuminated the wounds on her brother’s torso.

“No.” Keith shook his head. “The wounds on the torso are superficial, and the bite wound is already healing.”

_ “Bite wound?” _ Lance asked sharply. Nearby, Veronica sucked in a breath.

“Yeah,” Keith said quietly.

“He has to get to the hospital in Corpus Christi,” Shiro said, turning and striding towards Ryou. “The one in Victoria isn’t going to cut it.”

_ What did that mean? _ Pidge wondered, watching distantly as she watched Keith and Lance splint Matt’s arm and bandage his torso, muttering about blood loss and infections. 

“What the hell is going on?” She asked plaintively, wrapping her arms around herself as she shivered, and Keith glanced up at her sharply. Nothing made sense anymore, and Matt was hurt, and she  _ hated _ it. “Why is Lance the only one wearing clothes?”

Hunk—who she hadn’t even noticed leaving—reappeared wearing sweatpants, pulling some more out of a duffle bag. Keith waved him off.

“In a moment,” he said irritably, eyes narrowing as he eyed her speculatively. “We need to get Matt in the truck first, and on the way to the hospital. Hunk, help me lift him.”

“Pidge,” Lance called her gently, “help me get the sleeping bag underneath Matt, okay?”

Mechanically, Pidge nodded, helping Lance get the sleeping bag underneath an unconscious Matt as Hunk lifted his torso and Keith held his head and shoulders steady. The two men then used the bag as a makeshift stretcher, and Pidge watched as they carefully maneuvered her brother into the back of Ryou’s truck.

“I need to stay here and secure the crime scene,” Ryou was saying—and wasn’t that wild, to hear that her and Matt’s  _ campsite  _ was now a  _ crime scene _ . “Shiro, you’re driving. Lance, Keith, you ride with him and—”

“No,” Keith interrupted, shaking his head as he yanked a shirt over his head. “l want Lance with Pidge. Lance, grab my hoodie.”

“Wha—?” Lance stared at Keith before spinning to stare hard at Pidge. “Oh, shit.”

“I’m—” Pidge licked her lips and resolutely told herself to  _ stop shaking _ . “I’m not hurt. I’m barely scratched. Matt—”

“I’ll drive his car,” Hunk was saying. “I saw the keys in the ignition, unless you want me to stay here.”

“I do,” Ryou was saying. “Your sense of smell is a lot better than mine, and if—”

Suddenly, Lance was  _ there _ , wrapping her in a warm red hoodie and pulling her against him. Salt stung her eyes as the warmth spread, all of the adrenaline that had been keeping her going fleeing in the face of Lance’s calm reassurance, and Pidge whimpered as her knees buckled.

“Veronica, you’re driving,” Lance bent down, hooking his arm under the back of her thighs and hoisting her up as he headed towards the car. He waited for his sister to open the door and slid into the back seat, settling Pidge in his lap.

“I’m okay,” Pidge insisted, pulling the hoodie closer. “I’m not hurt.”

“Not physically,” Lance agreed.

“ _ Matt _ is hurt.” Pidge buried her face against Lance’s neck, her breath hitching as the car started up. “I couldn’t save him.”

“He’s not dead.” Lance rubbed his cheek over the top of her head, and Pidge let his words soothe her, even as tears started rolling down her cheeks. “And he’s in good hands. Keith is awesome at this.”

“Keith is  _ naked. _ ” 

Lance chuckled, rubbing a soothing hand over her back. “He put on some clothes.”

“He took care of Matt first,” Pidge said as the harsh sound of gravel turned into the lower noise of asphalt. “But he was a wolf. And then he was naked. And Hunk was a  _ bear? _ ”

“A teddy bear,” Lance said.

“He threw a wolf off of me,” Pidge mumbled. “And roared. I thought I was gonna wet myself.”

Lance’s hand stilled, and Pidge felt his throat flex as he swallowed. “He threw a wolf off of you?” he asked carefully.

Pidge nodded against his neck.

“It didn’t bite you, did it?” Lance asked, sounding oddly tense.

“No,” Pidge shook her head, shuddering as she remembered bloody teeth and hot breath in her face. “Knocked me over. Stepped on me. But—it yanked Matt right out of his chair. I heard his arm snap.”

“Jesus.” Lance took a deep breath, then another, and Pidge felt the warm haze she’d been sinking into start to retreat, her stomach twisting into knots as the bile rose in her throat. 

Pidge groaned. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“No, you’re not,” Lance said, hand rising to grip the back of her neck. His face pressed into her hair, and Pidge felt the nausea retreat. “Are you hurt? We should have asked—Hunk didn’t smell any blood on you.”

“Scratches,” Pidge mumbled against Lance’s shirt. “My chest hurts. Why are there wolves in Texas?”

Lance sighed, and the warm weight of his arm, which had been resting over her knees shifted. His hand rose, curling over her shoulder and his thumb rubbed across her collarbone. A tingling spread behind the motion, soothing the ache and allowing her to breath a little easier.

“How are you doing that?” Pidge demanded, even as she drew in what felt like the first deep breath in forever. 

“Magic,” Lance said lightly.

“You say that like it’s unbelievable,” Pidge scoffed. “You...did it before.”

“Hm?” The fingers gripping her neck eased into her hair and the soothing motion continued.

“At the coffee shop,” Pidge mumbled, starting to feel groggy. “You did...something.”

“Mmhm,” Lance agreed. “Nothing harmful.”

“I had a burn,” Pidge murmured, stirring, “and then I didn’t. I was showing Matt when, when—” 

“Shh,” Lance soothed, arm tightening around her shoulders, fingers pressing against the back of her skull. Pidge felt her eyelids drooping as the energy drained from her. She was warm, and safe, and this felt so  _ nice _ — 

“Sleep,” Lance whispered, “we’ll be here when you wake up, and we’ll explain everything. I promise.”

“I can’t,” Pidge grumbled, but lethargy was stealing through her limbs, the steady hum of the wheels against the road and the beat of Lance’s heart under her cheek lulling her eyes closed. “My brother—”

_ “Sleep,” _ Lance insisted.

And she did. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Keith waited until the paramedics had transferred Matt onto the stretcher and started wheeling him towards the ambulance before looking around. Shiro was speaking with one of the officers who had stopped, and Veronica was standing next to him. The officer, from what Keith could gather, was one of the personnel assigned to the supernatural task force that Ryou was a part of, or at least was in the know about the supernatural world. Keith hadn’t been sure about the paramedics, so he hadn’t tried to explain how Matt’s wounds were already healing—let them assume it wasn’t that bad, if they didn’t know better. Ryou had assured them (via speakerphone while they were driving to intercept the ambulance) that the dispatcher was calling the hospital to make sure the appropriate medical personnel were there to handle Matt’s care.

Hunk was assisting Ryou while they monitored the crime scene. Shiro and Veronica were talking to the police, Matt had been loaded into the ambulance and was headed towards the hospital. However, Lance and Pidge were suspiciously absent. Keith had at least wanted to get Pidge checked out: he hadn’t  _ smelled _ anything off, but blood and adrenaline and terror had been overpowering most every other scent, so it would be easy to miss something.

Veronica caught his eye and nodded towards the SUV. Striding over to the Hyundai Tuscon that Keith assumed belonged to Matt, he yanked open the back door and peered inside. Lance peered back at him, bright blue eyes unnaturally luminescent in the dim light as he offered the other boy a weary smile and nodded to the empty seat next to him.

“You knocked her out,” Keith observed, electing to ignore the fact that neither of them were wearing seatbelts. 

“Yeah.” Lance sighed, dropping his head back against the headrest. “She was in shock, but every time I ‘leaned’ enough to calm her down, she started asking questions.”

“If she was coherent enough to ask…” Keith started, sliding into the back next to them.

“Not...really?” Lance grimaced. “It was more like a cycle. I’d calm her down, she’d ask questions, remember something, and work herself back up. So I’d calm her down, but…”

“So you just put her out.” Keith nodded. “Expedient.”

“Probably not my best move,” Lance admitted. “She might have a minor concussion—she said the Rogue knocked her over and stepped on her. She had a headache, and some swelling around her breastbone.”

“The Rogue  _ stepped _ on her?” Keith asked, appalled, as Veronica opened the driver’s door and slid in. “That thing was huge! It could have crushed her!”

“I think it was more of an intimidation tactic then actually trying to hurt her,” she offered as she started the car back up. “The one that bit me did the same thing.”

Lance scowled at the reminder of what had happened to his sister as Keith maneuvered the seatbelt over them awkwardly. “And cracked three of your ribs.”

“At least they healed up quickly,” Veronica said sardonically as she pulled back onto the road, following the route that the ambulance had taken.

“Is Shiro coming?” Keith asked, twisting to stare out the back window.

“Yeah,” Veronica nodded. “He actually left before the ambulance; he’s going to call the Holts and tell them what happened, and intercept them so he can explain a few things. Not  _ everything _ , but enough to let them know their son was hurt and he’ll be alright.” 

“I am  _ so _ glad I’m not the Alpha.” Keith watched Lance’s eyelids droop. “Is she out?”

“So-so,” Lance said wryly. “She’s under, but she’s fighting it, so I have to keep leaning on her to keep her that way.”

“Matt is important to her,” Keith murmured, recalling how she’d been standing over her brother. “She was ready to take us on with a fire fork and a broken chair.”

“She’s a tough girl,” Veronica said, nodding approvingly. 

“She probably won’t rest until she knows that Matt is okay.” Keith pursed his lips. “But we can’t give her that, and she’d want to see it for herself anyway.”

“And in the meantime, she has a lot of questions, the answers to which are only going to freak her out more,” Lance added.

“And that isn't really our place to answer.” Veronica shot them a look in the rearview mirror. “The Pack might be present, but that’s  _ Shiro’s _ place.”

“You said she might have a concussion?” Keith frowned worriedly. 

_ “Might,” _ Lance stressed. “She was dazed and shocky, but we were definitely having coherent conversation—she wasn’t slurring her words or losing them.”

“You’re tired,” Keith observed, frowning. “Do you want me to take her?”

Lance reluctantly shook his head. “She won’t stay down if you do. She might be calmer? But if she is, she’s definitely going to have questions you won’t want to answer right now, and I don’t think she’ll be happy to be put off.”

“Are you going to be alright?” Veronica asked in concern.

“How far out are we from the hospital?” Lance asked.

“About forty minutes,” Veronica replied. 

“Yeah, but I’m glad it’s a full moon—this is taking a ridiculous amount of energy to maintain, and I already used a bunch charging the wards. I can do it, but I’m going to sleep like a baby once I can hand her off,” Lance said wryly.

“Why do people use that phrase, anyway?” Keith wondered aloud. “From what I’ve heard, babies basically don’t sleep.”

“Because ‘sleep like a Keith’ hasn’t quite caught on yet,” Lance retorted, rolling his eyes.

“Good thing I am a heavy sleeper—you snore,” Keith smirked.

“I do not!” Lance exclaimed.

“You do,” Veronica said. “Worse when you sleep on your back.”

“Or have a head cold,” Keith added.

“Everybody snores when they have a head cold,” Lance argued. “You can’t hold that against me.”

“Like hell I can’t,” Keith snorted, then stilled when Pidge shifted restlessly. 

“She’s good,” Lance murmured distractedly, hand rubbing circles over her back. “By the way, kudos for turning down clothes to take care of Matt first. I think you impressed her.”

Veronica snorted. “Or she was impressed by his—”

“Shut up,” Keith snapped, feeling the heat creep into his cheeks and glad Lance couldn’t see it in the dark.

“Way to score brownie points  _ and _ show off,” Lance teased. 

“Because that’s totally what I was trying to do,” Keith huffed.

“I know,” Lance said easily. “But now Pidge thinks that your first concern was for her brother, not just that you have zero concept of modesty.”

“My first concern  _ was _ her brother,” Keith protested.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable,” Veronica giggled. “Just accept the compliment.”

“Whatever,” Keith grumbled. “How do you think Hunk and Ryou are doing?”

“Better than Shiro will be!” Lance quipped.

“It’s going to be a long night for everyone,” Veronica said seriously. 

“Yeah,” Keith agreed quietly. “What happens next?”

“That is the question, isn’t it,” Lance mused.

“Practically speaking,” Veronica shrugged, “we see how Matt is doing and go from there. If he’s a werewolf now—” 

“He is,” Keith said. “He was bitten, and it was already healing when the ambulance met us.”

“Then we break the news to his family and get him— _ them _ —into therapy,” Veronica said. “Matt is going to need support, and a Pack, and training.”

“Not like we haven’t done this before,” Lance muttered bitterly.

“What happened to me was over a decade ago,” Veronica reminded him. “Shiro hasn’t had to deal with this. Neither has Ryou. Not saying that your uncle didn’t train them well, just that this is their first experience with it,” she added as Keith opened his mouth to protest.

“So you’ll stay close,” Keith shrugged. “They would want you to, anyway. But I didn’t really mean with Matt—he’s going to need help, and we’ll help him. That’s what we do. I mean, what happens next? Either this is the same Rogue who attacked those campers in Woodville last month, or it isn’t.”

“The Rogue disappeared,” Veronica admitted. “No scent, no tracks. It was like it just...vanished, into thin air.”

“So we either have a single Rogue Alpha with a magical accomplice who’s running around Texas biting random people, or we have  _ multiple _ Rogues who just all happen to be in the state.” Keith said. “Either way, we’ve got a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a day early - Happy Memorial Day


	9. Sleight of Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge has questions, and Keith and Lance get caught in the crossfire. Also, Lance is a troll.
> 
>  _'I’ll be the paranormal version of the crazy cat lady,'_ Pidge decided, taking in Lance’s dropped jaw and the way Keith shrank back from her glare. Mentally, she kissed her almost-love-life goodbye (since it was the only kiss she was going to get, at this rate). _'I’ll build robot cats, to help me hunt cryptids, and live in a shack in the woods with my robo-cats and my internet.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know jack crap about medicine or internal trauma or...anything. I'm faking everything with only my sub-par google-fu and some vaguely okay sounding bullshit to guide me.
> 
> ...this disclaimer could reasonably apply to my whole life.

Ryou studied the remains of the campsite in the thin morning light, sighed, and scrubbed a hand over his face as he pushed back the exhaustion. He and Hunk had remained and secured the primary crime scene—the campsite—until his coworkers on the SRT could arrive. 

Unfortunately, by then whatever prints or trail they might have turned up by following the Rogue had vanished, if they were ever there to begin with. Hunk had been interviewed, and a technician had scrapped under his fingernails to try to recover any evidence before taking him home.

On the plus side, they’d gotten more evidence from this attack than they had any others previously: the Holt siblings had put up a bloody good fight, and the Rogue clearly had not been expecting another werewolf Pack to be nearby and able to interfere. Previously, the Rogue had attacked isolated campers or hikers and had taken them by surprise, biting and running before they could respond, leaving the victims injured and unconscious. By the time the Supernatural Response Team had been alerted, usually several hours had passed, and the scene had already been contaminated by civilian rescuers, paramedics, and even local LEOs who hadn’t treated the scene as a _crime_ scene because the assumption was that it was a random animal attack. By the time the Supernatural Response Team had gotten word and arrived to investigate, any evidence had been cleared away and the scents dissipated by time or obscured by other people.

This time, however, the Rogue hadn’t gotten the drop on the Holts. Or, Ryou mentally revised, thinking of the reports he’d gotten on Matthew’s wounds, he _had_ but the advantage hadn’t lasted long. Things still might have ended poorly for the Holts if the Pack hadn’t been nearby and heard Katie scream. The Rogue had been chased off, but the presence of the Pack meant that the appropriate authorities were contacted and on scene to treat it properly.

Still, Ryou was disturbed by the lack of scent. He and Veronica had chased the Rogue entirely by line-of-sight until it had been obscured by an outcropping of scrub brush and disappeared. They hadn’t looked for tracks because they hadn’t needed too, but when Ryou had gone back there were no tracks to be found. Which meant that either the Rogue or their accomplice had returned to wipe them and completely missed alerting Ryou and Hunk, or that there had never been tracks in the first place.

Both options were discomfiting. 

Ryou’s consolation was that they had gotten several hairs and tracks at the campsite. Some were obviously ruled out, such as the human footprints from Matt and Katie’s shoes, or the bear claw marks from Hunk, but there were a few wolf paw prints that Ryou was holding out hope for. The _real_ prize had been the blood on the campfire fork that Katie had used to stab the wolf with. Even if it had healed before the Rogue had been run off and hadn’t left a trail for them to follow, the blood remained on the fork from where it had been stabbed. Unfortunately, the fork had been dropped onto the ground, but Ryou was still hoping that the forensic investigators could pull something off of it.

Still, it was now—Ryou glanced at his phone—almost seven in the morning. Ryou had been on the crime scene in his official capacity since just after three, with the Holt siblings having been attacked shortly after one in the morning. Some of the crew was nocturnal, but with the rising sun most of them were running at a low ebb, despite having been given coffee and snacks by the secondary crew.

“Alright, people, let’s wrap it up!” Sergeant Sorlin called out, and Ryou sighed.

“Do you need me in the office, Sarge?” Ryou asked. 

Lieutenant Elaine Sorlin looked him up and down, lips pursed thoughtfully as she considered him. “No,” she finally said. “It’s not your day on, and unless I miss my guess you’ve been up going on twenty-four hours, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ryou nodded respectfully at the smaller woman. 

“And your Alpha probably wants you there yesterday,” Elaine mused. Being a banshee, she wasn’t familiar with Pack dynamics the way a werewolf was, but she knew that Ryou was Shiro’s second and the two relied on each other for most things.

“Yep.” Ryou chanced a glance at his phone. “He said Matt will probably be waking up in the next few hours, once the anesthesia wears off. But he’s already had Mr. and Mrs. Holt breathing down his neck.”

“Any idea how he’s going to approach this?” Lieutenant Sorlin shrugged at Ryou’s questioning look. “It’s a crappy situation, and one we haven’t had to deal with in these parts since the Espinosa girl was bitten. That was, what? A decade ago? And they already knew about all of this, so there wasn’t much explaining to do, and we just treated it like a regular crime.”

“True enough,” Ryou muttered, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I...don’t know. I’ll have to discuss it with him, I guess.”

“Shiro is a good boy,” Sergeant Sorlin said. “He’s probably already thought of it. And if he hasn’t, then Virginia probably has.”

“Veronica,” Ryou corrected absently. “Do you want me to take Matt’s statement?”

“Someone will be by to do it later,” Sorlin said, shaking her head. “I’ve got this handled, Officer Shirogane: you’re dismissed. Go take a shower. Handle your pack. I’ll see you Monday.”

Ryou nodded and moved towards his pickup, which was parked on the perimeter of the crime scene. Veronica had driven back out and she and Hunk had packed up their campsite after Hunk’s interview, and had brought it over before grabbing Lance’s keys to take the Jeep home. 

Ryou waited until he was on the highway before calling Shiro. He could have waited until he got home, he supposed, but he was tired and the conversation would keep him awake

“Hey,” Ryou greeted tiredly. “How goes things?”

“Not bad, all considered,” Shiro replied. “I at least got a nap while Matt was in surgery, and Katie was being checked over by Luis.”

“They called in Luis?” Ryou asked, surprised. Luis Espinosa-McClain normally worked the day shift at one of the clinics in town. “Isn’t he a family doctor?”

“Yes,” Shiro answered, and Ryou could practically see him nodding. “But he’s also one of the few people in the know.”

“Well...” he sighed. “I guess we don’t have to worry about telling Estella.”

“True enough, but I wasn’t planning on springing her on them either.” Shiro sighed. “I’ve put them off for a little bit—right now they just think that Matt wasn’t badly bitten, and Luis slipped Katie something that would knock her out for a while so she could rest without her ribs bothering her, so they don’t have the full story yet.”

“And Katie hasn’t said anything?” Ryou asked suspiciously. “I know Keith and Hunk shifted in front of her, so there is no way she’d buy the old ‘we were just in the area’ story, even if we weren’t all _naked._ ”

“Lance was leaning on her for the ride to the hospital,” Shiro explained, “and apparently he was having a hard time keeping her calm, so he wound up putting her under.”

“Really?” Ryou wasn’t sure how he felt about that—it seemed like an underhanded tactic to force a girl to sleep because she was asking uncomfortable questions, but on the other hand, Shiro wasn’t available to answer questions.

“Don’t be too hard on them—I’m pretty sure there was an element of panic there,” Shiro said mildly. “Neither one of them have had to deal with anything like this before.”

“Fair point.” Ryou sighed. “So, what happened next?”

“Well, I was right behind the ambulance, so I got here a few minutes before they did,” Shiro continued. “Luis met us and took him back—he was in pretty good shape, all told, but the bone had to be rebroken to be properly set and they needed to dig into his shoulder to clean it all out and make sure everything was healing properly, so they kept him under.”

Ryou hummed—anesthesia was especially iffy with newly turned weres because their bodies would start metabolising it more rapidly. The rate of absorption was different for everybody, so proper amounts were less of a dosage and more of a range, depending on other factors. 

“And Katie?”

“Started surfacing a few minutes after Lance set her on the gurney, and basically woke up demanding answers,” Shiro said, sounding torn between horror and amusement. “She does have a mild concussion, and bruised ribs, so she was admitted for observation.”

“What kind of answers did you give her?” Ryou asked curiously.

“None yet,” Shiro admitted. “We were out in the waiting room, but we could hear her through the doors. One of the nurses had given her some grade-A drugs, so she was already drowsy, so it was just general things like ‘where am I?’ and ‘what happened?’ If she said anything else, her parents didn’t mention it to us when we spoke.”

“Or they just thought she was high as a kite and babbling,” Ryou added.

“Also a distinct possibility,” Shiro admitted. “Veronica took Keith and Lance back to the house, and they’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Veronica came back here and packed up our site,” Ryou said. “Then she and Hunk took the Jeep back home and left my truck. They took off around… five?”

“They probably just went to the her apartment and crashed.” Shiro yawned. “We probably won’t see them for another few hours.”

“Where are you?” Ryou asked suspiciously.

“Home, for now,” Shrio admitted. “I wanted to make sure you’d get here safe before crashing, but I’m heading back to the hospital around ten to talk to the Holts.”

“Go to sleep, Shiro,” Ryou said gently. “I’ll be home in about fifteen minutes. We can all catch a nap before heading to the hospital, alright?”

“Sure,” Shiro yawned. “I’ve already set the coffee pot to brew. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“I’ll see you in a bit,” Ryou echoed, then hung up the phone. 

It was going to be a long day.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

By nine o’clock, Pidge was ready to climb the walls. She’d woken up at the hospital in a curtained off exam room with a nurse wrapping a blood pressure cuff over her arm and no Lance, Keith or Hunk in the vicinity. Queries about what was going on only revealed what she already knew (there had been an animal attack, and some fellow campers had rescued her), and very little in the way of new information (Matt was in surgery and doing well, and her rescuers were in the waiting room).

“Did Keith have pants on?” Pidge wondered. 

The nurse paused. “Miss?”

“When they changed back to humans, they were naked,” Pidge explained groggily.

To their credit, the nurse barely batted an eye, brow only furrowing in mild concern before making a note on the screen. 

“How is your head feeling? Have you experienced and nausea or vomiting?” they asked, turning back to Pidge and pulling a penlight out of their pocket. Pidge grimaced, but answered honestly.

“Hurts like a bitch, and no.” She sighed.

“Hmm. Were you unconscious at any point?”

“I think I fell asleep in the car,” Pidge huffed. “Look, Keith and Lance are both lifeguards, so I know they have first aid-ow!”

“Would you please lay back on the bed?” The nurse asked patiently. “I’ll send somebody out to interview your friends, but I need you to hold still and let me look at those ribs…”

She never did get to see Lance and Keith. By the time they were done looking at her (minor concussion, bruised ribs, admitted for observation) her parents had arrived. By the time she was admitted and settled into a room, Lance, Keith and Shiro were gone. 

Pidge tossed and turned for the remainder of the night, debating if she had really seen what she thought she had seen—and then felt crazy for doubting herself, in turn feeling craz _ier_ for _believing_ herself. In the end, the only real answer was to talk to the boys in question. 

Her parents, for their part, seemed completely clueless about what had _actually_ happened on Mr. Wayne’s ranch, seeming to think that Matt had only gotten a fairly minor bite and that his surgery had been less about repairing his shoulder and more about keeping him out while they cleaned and stitched the wound. No mention was made of Matt’s broken arm, or the amount of blood lost, or the gouges she had seen through the tatters of the shirt.

By eight, Pidge was half-convinced that she _was_ crazy. Her dad’s calm demeanor and cheerful update on Matt’s condition (he could be released as early as tomorrow? Really?) did nothing to soothe her agitation, and by the time she heard familiar voices in the hallway, Pidge was ready to pounce. She was off the bed, ignoring the pain in her ribs and her father’s protest as she moved towards the door, pushing the curtain aside as Keith was raising his hand to rap on the door frame.

“—it have been weird if we’d brought her coffee?” Lance was asking cheerfully.

“You two!” Pidge jabbed a finger in their direction as two heads whipped around to stare at her in shock. 

“Katie!” Her father admonished, rising from his chair.

“I want answers!” Pidge demanded, eyes narrowing as they traded nervous glances. 

“Uh…” was Keith’s intelligent response as he gaped at her.

In retrospect, Pidge thought she probably did make a pretty ridiculous picture. She’d washed her face, but probably looked pretty rough—pale, with dark bags under her eyes, which were probably also red-rimmed with exhaustion. Her hair was in disarray, piled messily atop her head, and she may have tucked a few pens in it as well while she distracted herself with classwork. She’d been allowed to put bottoms on underneath the hospital gown, but the plain black yoga pants didn’t do much to dignify the pediatric-sized hospital gown that was _still_ stubbornly sliding off of her shoulder.

“Katie,” her father huffed behind her. “Manners.”

“My apologies,” Pidge said evenly, maintaining eye contact with the two men as she lowered her arm. Drawing herself upright, she offered them a smile. “Won’t you please come in?”

“Um, we’re just here to let you know that Shiro is going to talk to Matt.” Keith hovered nervously in the doorway as he eyed her. “He thought you might want to join everyone.”

“I would love to—in just a moment.” Pidge turned to her father. “Can I talk to them for a second please?”

Sam eyed her but didn’t openly protest, instead moving outside the door and into the hall. Pidge stepped around Keith and Lance, crowding them and forcing them to step into the room as she followed her father. Giving him her best innocent look, she smiled and shut the door in his face as he stood blinking at her in confusion. 

Taking a breath and reminding herself to be _patient_ , Pidge turned to face her so-called saviors. Cornering them and demanding answers wouldn’t earn her any points, she reminded herself. Badgering them wouldn’t do any good. And even if she _hadn’t_ already scared Keith off by admitting to believing in cryptids or being a hysterical wreck waving a fire fork (no promises), being rude certainly wouldn’t earn her any favors. And, _dammit_ , she’d never been on a date before, so she kind of wanted to— 

“What the hell happened last night?” she demanded.

 _Screw it,_ she thought wildly. Dating was overrated. She was destined to never go on a date—she could just learn to be happy hunting cryptids and building robots. 

_'I’ll be the paranormal version of the crazy cat lady,'_ Pidge decided, taking in Lance’s dropped jaw and the way Keith shrank back from her glare. Mentally, she kissed her almost-love-life goodbye (since it was the only kiss she was going to get, at this rate). ' _I’ll build robot cats, to help me hunt cryptids, and live in a shack in the woods with my robo-cats and my internet.'_

“Um, has nobody explained it to you yet?” Lance offered her a charming smile, all white teeth and flashing blue eyes. “Because that’s—”

“I’ve gotten an explanation,” Pidge cut in, gritting her teeth. “But it wasn’t the _correct_ one. Rogue wolf attacks a couple of campers. Another group of campers happen to be in the area, and you guys come across me as I drive the wolf away with a toaster fork. Administer first aid, call 911 and here I am.”

“That’s...pretty much what happened,” Keith tried.

“That version is more sanitized then the surgical tools.” Pidge rolled her eyes. “And leaves out the part where I was saved by a bear, and then _another_ wolf showed up to fight off the attacking wolf, or where the various forest creatures stampeding through the campsite _turned into people._ ”

Keith and Lance looked at each other again, but it wasn’t the confused or bewildered expression she’d seen on the nurse or her parents. They didn’t think she was insane, or high on painkillers, or concussed. They looked _resigned._

“So...if you know what happened, why are you asking _us_ what happened?” Keith asked hesitantly.

“Because you were there, too!” Pidge flailed her arms in consternation, and immediately regretted it as her ribs protested the motion. Hissing in pain, Pidge dropped her arm to take the strain off of her ribs, then glared at Keith as he started forward. Keith hesitated, the dropped his hand and stepped back next to Lance.

“I mention wolves turning into naked people and the nurse says I have a concussion and that I’m confused,” Pidge continued. “I tell my dad a bear saved me and _he_ seems confused. I know I didn’t drive off that giant freaking wolf with a marshmallow fork, but everyone is telling me I did! So, I don’t know,” Pidge spread her hands imploringly, careful of her bandages, “ _am_ I confused? Because you two were there, and in a lot better shape than me. What _happened?_ ”

Lance and Keith traded another set of looks, and Lance made a little gesture at Keith. “Your call.”

Keith grimaced and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Would it help if I said that we’re here to tell you that? Shiro should be the one to explain things, though.”

“I don’t know Shiro,” Pidge said bluntly. “I get that he’s your brother, and dad likes him, but I don’t _know_ him. I do know you two. So, just… how crazy am I?”

“Not as crazy as you probably feel,” Keith admitted. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, last night was all kinds of wild—like, nothing like that has _ever_ happened to us. And we’re going to need to know anything you might have said, because we’re going to have to do damage control: secrecy is rule number one, you know? But, no, you’re not crazy.”

“What do you mean by ‘damage control?’” Pidge asked suspiciously. “You’re not going to _Obliviate_ me or anything, are you? Bust out your neuralyzer?”

Keith snorted. “Sorry, I don’t do the hocus pocus thing.”

“No, you just do the naked and furry thing,” Pidge drawled sarcastically. 

Lance choked, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter as Keith gaped at Pidge.

“Oh my God,” he gasped, giggling, “something you want to tell us, Keith?”

“You’re one to talk!” Keith snapped. “If I’m furry, what does that make _you?_ ”

“What?” Katie asked, eyes darting between the two.

“‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,’” Lance quipped, winking at her unrepentantly.

Pidge stared at him. “You’re...not a wolf.”

“Correct,” Lance said, looking amused.

“I thought you were the brown one, maybe,” Katie mused, “but you showed up afterwards. You drove the truck and had clothes on.”

“I could have gone to get the truck and put on clothes then,” Lance offered.

“No, I don’t think so.” Pidge studied him for a second, recalling the smaller brown wolf that had darted after her attacker. “When Shiro called you, he had to tell you where we were—he wouldn’t have needed to do that if you’d already been there. What are you?”

“Human.” Lance grinned.

“So is he right now,” Pidge argued, gesturing at Keith. “But he wasn’t last night.”

“I promise you that I don’t shift into anything else,” Lance said earnestly.

“But if you’re a human, then why were you out there last night?” Pidge asked. “If you were just a human, why would you have any involvement in...whatever this is?”

“Magic.” Lance grinned and winked at her again.

Pidge stared, unimpressed, and Keith rolled his eyes. Undeterred, Lance’s grin widened as he raised his hands, wagging them in a “jazz hands” gesture. “Want to see a trick?”

Keith groaned, and Pidge sucked in a breath, ready to tell Lance exactly what she thought of his “trick” when a throat cleared behind her. Pidge jumped, teeth clamping down on the half-shocked, half-pained yelp that tried to escape her as she spun around to find Ryou standing in the doorway, looking amused.

“Those are all very good questions, Katie.” Ryou smiled at her benignly. “And I promise that we’ll answer as many as we can. In the meantime, there’s somebody in Matt’s room who wants to meet you, and we all need to sit and discuss the events of last night. Why don’t you join us?”

Pidge could only nod dumbly, and Ryou flashed her another smile before moving off, out into the hallway to chat with her father while they waited for her to catch up.

“Tell you what,” Keith said quietly from next to her, and Pidge jumped. “How about a compromise?”

“I’m listening,” Pidge said quietly as the three of them stepped out of the room and followed Ryou and Sam down the hall towards Matt’s room. 

“If you have any questions that aren’t answered after this, we’ll answer them,” Keith said. “And if for some reason we _can’t_ answer them, we’ll either help you find the answer, or tell you why we can’t give you an answer.”

“You’re frustrated,” Lance spoke up, though his voice was still pitched low to avoid carrying, “and that’s totally understandable. I would be frustrated too, in your place. We’ll help where we can, but we also need you to trust that we’re not keeping you in the dark just for the hell of it—we have reasons.”

“And those reasons have to do with Shiro and Matt, I’m guessing,” Pidge murmured, eyeing Ryou’s back as he and Sam stepped into Matt’s hospital room.

“Yes, but it’s a lot bigger than that, too,” Keith added. “There’s a lot more going on than just what you see here.” 

“It’s like a whole other world,” Lance added cryptically, and gestured Pidge through the open door.


	10. Lifting the Veil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you’re all werewolves.” Pidge leaned forward, glance cutting across to Keith. “Except for Hunk, who’s a bear?”
> 
>  _“What?”_ Matt gaped at his sister—Pidge, master of all things logical and sane—as she calmly accepted that they’d been attacked by an imaginary creature.
> 
> “How else do you explain what happened?” Pidge asked irritably. “We were attacked by a wolf, saved by a bear, another wolf helped drive it off and then more wolves came and they all turned into naked people, who administered first aid and called for help. Either werewolves are real or that rum was laced with something.”

It was the beeping that woke Matt up—loud and incessant, it was like an ice pick drilling into his ear. Faint, chemical-scented air currents drifted over his skin, and a low  _ thud-thud, thud-thud _ could be heard off to the side. There were also vague voices, but they were too muffled for him to identify, or try to discern what the conversation was about.

_ No longer outside, _ his mind supplied as he swam into consciousness, prying his eyelids open to try to find the source of the noise. Sterile white walls, faux-wood paneled cabinets, and a whiteboard with a name and some medical jargon scrawled across it.

A hospital, then, Matt deduced, eyeballing the monitor beeping next to his bed. Why was that thing so damn  _ loud? _ Didn’t they know people were trying to  _ rest? _

“Matt?”

His mother’s voice was loud and shocked, and Matt winced even as his head lolled in the direction it had come from, absently noting that the thudding from that direction had sped up a tick, too.

“Matt, you’re awake!” Colleen rose from the chair to come stand next to his bedside. “How are you feeling, sweetie?”

“Don’ yell,” Matt mumbled, forcing the words past uncooperative lips.

“Yell?” Colleen blinked, looking confused, but obligingly lowered her voice. “Is...this better?”

“Yeah,” Matt frowned, trying to ignore the beeping monitor—it didn’t seem to bother his mom at all, and he fleeting wondered why before his mind turned to more important matters. “Where’s Pidge?”

“That would be your first question,” Colleen’s chuckle was watery and Matt’s nose twitched at the odd salt-and-something scent as she blinked rapidly before smiling down at him. “Katie’s fine. A little banged up, and they kept her for observation, but she’s not too far away.”

“Wha’ happ’nd?” Matt swallowed, licking his lips and willing his mouth to work better. His mother saw and grabbed a cup from nearby. The sound of it scraping against the table made him wince.

“You were attacked,” His mother said, holding a straw up to his lips so he could sip. “A wolf, they said—I didn’t even know there were wolves in Texas.”

“Th’re are,” Matt mumbled, frowning as he tried to dredge up what he knew of wolves. “Not— not many. Shy. Can you shut it off?”

“Shut what off?” Colleen asked, frowning.

“The...thing.” Matt glanced at the monitor and wished he could remember the name of it. “I’s too loud.”

Colleen frowned and glanced at the monitor, but obligingly set the cup down and stepped towards it.

“Well,” she continued as she pressed buttons on it deftly, “the wolf last night wasn’t shy. You’re lucky it only nibbled on you a little—it could have taken your arm off if it had really yanked.”

Matt frowned as he absorbed the information. His mother wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t feel like the whole story (and he damn well hadn’t been “nibbled” on, either). He was missing something—something important. Gritting his teeth, Matt tried to push back the foggy feeling in his head, nose wrinkling at the antiseptic scent of the hospital around him.

“Wha’ else?” He asked, pleased that he sounded less drugged.

“Takashi and his family were out camping nearby,” Colleen continued. “And John isn’t terribly pleased that they were on his ranch without permission, but seeing as they heard Katie screaming and came to help, he’s not pressing charges for trespassing.”

Matt studied his mother, trying to piece together what he could remember about the attack. “Bear?” He blurted.

“Bear?” His mother echoed. “What bear?”

“There...was one?” Matt asked, enunciating carefully.

Colleen blinked. “Not that I heard,” she said slowly. “Don’t bears live in the forest?”

“How did we ge’ away?” Matt asked instead.

“Your sister stabbed it with a marshmallow roaster.” Colleen shook her head. “Apparently between that and Shiro’s brother showing up, it decided you were more trouble than it was worth.”

The information wasn’t  _ wrong _ , but it wasn’t right, either. Matt shook his head — he needed to talk to Katie. He was missing too much information. He tried to push himself up, but his shoulder wasn’t cooperating. “Can I see her?”

“You’re not getting out of bed just yet,” Colleen scolded, placing her palm on his clavicle. “ _ But _ she can come over here in a little bit.”

“When?” Matt asked, frustrated.

“The doctor needs to check you out, first,” Colleen said firmly, hand on his chest as she held him down. “You were attacked last night by a wild animal, and you spent almost an hour in surgery getting your shoulder stitched back together — you’re very lucky you’re alive and have all of your limbs, so take it easy for a minute, okay?”

Matt stopped struggling, and his mom released him. “I feel better,” he said carefully.

“And you’re sounding better, too,” Colleen agreed. “Still, the doctor wanted to see you and the nurse needs to check you out. Then we’ll see about getting your sister in here for you to chat with.”

“Is dad with her?” Matt asked as his mother pressed a button and the head of the bed started slowly rising. When his mother nodded, Matt relaxed back against his pillow.

“And I think we’re going to have a chat about your pain management plan,” his mother muttered, half to herself. “I saw what they gave you — the numbers are way off, first of all, and the dosage amount was clearly mischarted. Regardless, you should not be awake yet, let alone this coherent. Are you going to be alright while I let the nurses know you’re up?”

“Yeah,” Matt said — and was surprised that he meant it. Colleen nodded, and bustled out of the room in search of a nurse.

Looking down at his shoulder, he used his good hand to nudge aside the hospital gown to study the bandages underneath. He remembered the attack, and though it was mostly a haze of pain and terror, he did recall enough to know that he should be a lot worse off than he actually was. He was hurting, sure, but not nearly bad enough to match up to the memories of teeth sinking deep into his shoulder and shaking him like a rag doll.

Matt shuddered at the recollection of sharp teeth, and hot breath, and tearing pain. And screaming — he had never heard his sister scream quite like that, and it was something he would be quite happy to never hear again. Pushing the memories aside, Matt was in the process of trying to examine himself for other wounds (surely there would be others, even scratches) when his mother came back into the room, followed by Takashi Shirogane, a man who looked vaguely familiar, but was wearing a lab coat (probably the doctor, he thought) and…

“Hi?” he asked, staring in confusion at Lance’s sister. Veronica gave him a smile and waved.

“Takashi and Veronica came by to see how you were doing,” Colleen said cheerfully.

“Oh… Alright. Thanks for saving us,” he added, nodding.

“Ah, well, it wasn’t exactly me.” Shiro scrubbed his silver hand over the back of his neck, and Matt frowned, the memory tugging as the shine of it caught his eye. “It was Hunk and Keith, mostly. The rest of us were a little further off.”

“Regardless,” Matt shrugged — or, started to, then winced when his shoulder protested the motion, “I appreciate it. We would be in way worse shape if you guys hadn’t been nearby.”

“It wasn’t a problem, really.” Shiro shook his head as the doctor stepped over to the bed.

“Good morning, Matt,” he said, a pleasant smile curving his lips. “My name is Doctor Luis Espinosa-McClain, and I’m part of the team who’s been treating you and your sister. Do you have any questions for me?”

“When can I see Pidge?” Matt asked. “And why doesn’t my shoulder hurt? Where are the rest of my wounds?”

Luis binked, his lips quirking upwards. “I would think that your shoulder not hurting would be a good thing? Let’s take a look at the wound site, shall we?”

“My sister,” Matt repeated as the doctor shifted the shoulder of his gown. “How is she?”

“Awake and kicking,” Luis replied cheerfully, carefully peeling back Matt’s bandages. “And asking after you as well. Your shoulder is looking pretty good — we’ll see about getting the stitches out in a day or two—”

“A day or two?” Colleen repeated incredulously.

“Yes, Mrs. Holt,” Doctor Espinosa-McClain nodded, replacing the bandage on Matt’s shoulder, “a day or two.”

Colleen stared at the doctor intently for a moment, then glanced around the room and licked her lips. “Can we step outside and speak for a moment? I have some...questions about Matt’s chart.”

Luis’ eyebrows shot up as he straightened in surprise and turned to face Matt’s mother fully. Clearly, Matt thought in amusement, Doctor Luis Espinosa-McClain had no idea who Colleen Holt was prior to entering the room.

“Actually, ma’am,” Shiro interjected, “I think that we all need to speak. I’m sure we have the answers to a few of your questions.”

“Oh?” Colleen eyed Shiro, eyebrow raised questioningly.

“Yes.” Shiro nodded firmly, gesturing towards the door. “But I think Sam and Katie should be here, too. Doctor McClain said they could come in, so I sent Keith and Lance with Nurse O’Hara to bring them in.”

“Did you now.” Colleen’s lips pursed as she clearly wrestled with what to say next.

“I figured it would be quicker,” Shiro said. “I could explain everything at once, instead of you raking poor Luis over the coals for what probably looks like strange medical practices.”

“You know what’s going on.” Colleen’s eyes narrowed.

“I do.” Shiro nodded, not at all put off by her suspicious behavior. “We all do, actually. This, ah, isn’t the first time this has happened.”

“It wasn’t an animal attack, was it?” Matt asked suspiciously.

“Yes and no.” Shiro wagged his hand in the universal so-so gesture, but paused as another woman appeared in the doorway.

“Good morning!” She said cheerfully, rapping on the door frame before stepping into the room.

Colleen glanced at her, startled. “Yes? Can I help you?”

“No,” her smile was wide and familiar, and Matt tried to place it. “But I think I can help you," she added cryptically.

“Mrs. Holt,” Shiro said, “this is Estella Espinosa-McClain.”

Well, that explained it, Matt thought, this was Luis and Veronica’s mother. But why was she here?

“Call me Estella,” Estella said, holding out her hand. Looking confused, Colleen reluctantly shook it. “And you must be Matt,” she added, turning to regard him. “I heard you had a rough night.”

“Well, I was unconscious for the worst of it,” Matt said dryly, “so altogether not that bad. Really, it probably sucked more for the people who had to be awake.”

Stella threw back her head and laughed. “And with that attitude, I think you’re going to be just fine.”

“Excuse me,” Colleen interrupted, “but why are you all in my son’s hospital room? This is highly unprofessional.”

“Normally, yes.” Luis nodded. “But in this case, you’ll probably want them here. Matt’s case is...unique, and they can offer you some insight into the experience that you might find beneficial.”

Matt frowned as he considered this. “Did...one of you get attacked by a wolf?”

Veronica nodded and lifted her shirt to expose a faint ring of scars that marked the dip of her waist. “Almost ten years ago, now.”

“And you just… brought them in here?” Colleen was frowning, and Matt recognized the expression — she wasn’t sure how upset she was, yet. “Released confidential information about my children without my permission?”

“Lance and I were both with the Shirogane’s last night,” Veronica said. “And mom isn’t here for Matt specifically, or you, even. She’s here to talk to Katie.”

“Katie?”

“Lance brought her to my attention a few weeks ago,” Estella said, “apparently she makes a fantastic coffee. She and Matt are in his classes down at the Port as well.”

Matt narrowed his eyes at her wording.

“Where’s Ryou?” Shiro asked. “I thought he was with you.”

“He went to rescue Keith and Lance,” Stella snickered. “You might be able to hear her grilling them if you step out into the hall.”

“Seriously?” Shiro glanced at the door, taken aback, then relaxed.

“The door was closed when we went by,” Ryou said wryly as he stepped into the room. Sam entered and moved around the bed to hug Matt from his unbandaged side as Pidge, Keith and Lance came into the room. “Apparently she didn’t want to risk them escaping before they’d answered all of her questions.”

“And yet they managed anyway. They said  _ you _ would answer them,” Pidge said to Shiro, eyeing him as she scooted past. 

“Have fun,” Keith added dryly.

“Well, that’s the plan.” Shiro blinked, taken aback at the grim note in Katie’s voice. 

“Good,” Pidge said firmly, nudging her father out of the way to wrap a tentative arm around Matt’s shoulders. “Not that I’m not glad you’re okay, bro, but why they hell are you awake?”

“Katie!” Colleen sounded exasperated.

“Mom, last night he was  _ mauled. _ ” Pidge turned to her mother. “I mean, I’m not a medical professional, but I heard his bone snap. He passed out from blood loss. He was scratched up and bleeding. And now he looks almost fine?”

“I’m feeling pretty good, all considered.” Matt shook his head, nudging Pidge into the chair next to his bed. Really, she somehow looked worse than he did. “I mean, my shoulder hurts and I was pretty groggy when I woke up, but I don’t have any cuts or bruises or...anything. The pain level is tolerable, and the pain meds don’t seem to be affecting me too much.”

“Knock knock!” A dark-haired woman wearing nurse scrubs poked her head in the door. “Oh, wow, got a party in here, don’t you Luis? I might need more chairs.”

“Thanks Daphne,” Luis said, stepping forward and taking a few plastic chairs from her. “I think...four more? Can we fit that many in here?”

“I think we have to,” Luis glanced around the crowded room and grimaced.

“I can stand,” Ryou said, leaning back against the wall. Veronica settled comfortably next to him.

“Lance and I can take the bench,” Keith added, gesturing to the window seat, where Estella had already made herself comfortable. 

“Do you need help getting them?” Shiro asked politely.

“Oh, no dear, you go ahead and sit down.” The nurse beamed at him. “I’ll just take Lance instead.”

Lance, who was already sitting next to Keith, pulled a face. “Daphne…”

“You’re not essential to this operation, Shiro is. Now, come.” Daphne crooked her finger at him.

“If you’re going to make dog jokes, at least take Keith!” Lance whined, rising to his feet and trudging across the room. “Dog jokes are wasted on me!”

“Go fetch, Lance.” Keith smirked, leaning back and crossing his arms smugly.

Lance paused in the door before spinning to point at Keith. “Sit! Stay… Good boy!”

Keith’s mouth fell open and he sat upright, hand already raising like he was going to flip his friend off before freezing and glancing at Sam and Colleen. He scowled. “You’re not as funny as you think you are,” he grumbled.

“I am exactly as funny as I think I am,” Lance gloated, turning to trail after the nurse.

Matt pressed his lips together to hold in his laugh—at least Keith had the presence of mind to  _ try _ to be polite in front of his parents. Next to Keith on the window seat, Estella chuckled and patted his knee companionably when he offered her a shy smile. 

Next to him, Pidge sighed irritably. “He escaped.”

Matt glanced at her. “What did Lance do to you?”

“I don’t know!” Pidge threw her hands in the air, then reflexively winced and cradled her ribs. “He won’t tell me what he did—that’s the problem.”

“He couldn’t,” Estella spoke up, peering at Pidge. “He and Keith needed permission from myself or Shiro before they could really tell you anything, and honestly, it doesn’t sound like last night you were in any kind of shape to hear an explanation, anyway.”

“So  _ you _ know what’s going on, too.” Pidge leaned over Matt to stare at Estella, brow furrowing. “Do I...know you?”

“Not directly.” Estella sounded amused. “My name is Estella Espinosa-McClain; Luis, Lance and Veronica are my children.”

“Oh.” Pidge blinked. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Espinosa-McClain.”

“Mrs. McClain is fine.” Estella smiled. “Espinosa-McClain is kind of a mouthful.”

“I’m Samuel Holt.” Sam leaned forward and offered his hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Estella said, beaming. “Shiro speaks of you and your son fondly.”

“And...you’re here to speak to Katie?” Matt asked hesitantly. “Just to clarify.”

“Yes,” Estella agreed amiably, “but it’s circumstances being what they are, it’s just easier to include the group.”

“Everyone is dancing around something here,” Colleen grumbled, “and I, for one, would like to know what it is now.”

“We’re kind of waiting on Lance; if we activate the barrier before he gets back, he’ll have to dismantle the entire ward to get inside.” Luis admitted.

_ “Ward?” _ Colleen asked sharply.

“Hey, did I miss the big reveal?” Lance asked as he came in, carrying a stack of chairs. Katie was in the chair nearest Matt’s bed, and Colleen had taken the other seat that was in the room. Shiro and Sam had taken the first two seats that the nurse had brought, and Lance had brought in a few extras—Veronica had reconsidered standing, apparently, and unfolded her seat between Colleen and Shiro, leaving Luis closest to the door and Lance to wedge himself next to Katie. Ryou remained standing, leaning against the door that led to the in-suite bathroom. 

“No, we didn’t activate the ward yet.” Luis shook his head as he settled into his seat.

“Doing that now. Call me if you need me.” Daphne said, grabbing the door frame and leaning in to pull the door closed.

“Thanks, Daph.” Luis watched as the door handle clicked into place.

Next to Matt, Pidge shivered.

“Cold?” Matt asked curiously.

“No.” Pidge shook her head.

“So,” Shiro cleared his throat, “last night Matt and Katie were out camping and they were attacked by a wolf. Unfortunately, that wolf wasn’t exactly a wolf—it was a werewolf.”

“Excuse me?” Matt blurted out, watching his parents trade incredulous glances. “Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Shiro said, chagrined, as Matt started looking around for hidden cameras. “I’m actually not.”

“So you’re all werewolves.” Pidge leaned forward, glance cutting across to Keith. “Except for Hunk, who’s a bear?”

_ “What?” _ Matt gaped at his sister—Pidge, master of all things logical and sane—as she calmly accepted that they’d been attacked by an imaginary creature.

“How else do you explain what happened?” Pidge asked irritably. “We were attacked by a wolf, saved by a bear, another wolf helped drive it off and then more wolves came and they all turned into naked people, who administered first aid and called for help. Either werewolves are real or that rum was laced with something.”

“Toxicology reports were negative,” Luis confirmed, sounding absurdly cheerful.

“I remember being attacked,” Matt said slowly, still staring at his sister. “I  _ thought _ I remembered a bear, but after that it’s...mostly blurry.”

“That’s...probably for the best,” Pidge shivered, and the faint scent of salt tinged the air. “It was… You were in rough shape, Matt.”

Matt couldn’t help the whine that rose in his throat as Pidge’s lip trembled, hand already reaching for her. Across the room, Keith echoed the sound, then slapped a hand over his mouth, looking horrified at himself as his brothers glanced at him with raised eyebrows. Lance glanced at Keith, then Matt, and then leaned over his chair to wrap his fingers over Pidge’s wrist where it lay on the armrest.

“Katie?” Colleen asked quietly, shifting to look at her daughter.

“I’m okay mom,” Pidge said, taking a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“You had a rough experience,” Luis said solemnly, “and I think talking to someone would be a good idea—I can recommend a few therapists who are in the know about these types of things.”

“Are you serious?” Sam frowned.

“I am,” Luis replied. “It would be good for all of you to talk to one, actually. But that’s not important right now.”

“Right.” Colleen shook her head disbelievingly. “Well, I think I’m going to need some proof of...all this.”

“They’re not lying,” Pidge assured her mother. “Or, well, maybe the rum  _ was _ laced.”

“It was the same bottle that’s been on the fridge for weeks now,” Matt said faintly. “Pretty sure it wasn’t dosed between the house and the car.”

“Well, that rules out hallucinogens,” Pidge quipped. “So either the trauma was worse than I thought, or I really did see a bunch of animals turn into naked people to help stop you from bleeding out.”

_ “Katie.” _ Colleen sounded torn between exasperation and amusement.

“Sorry about that,” Shiro offered. “Clothes don’t shift with us, so we take them off beforehand.”

“All the same, you’ll have to pardon our disbelief,” Sam chimed in.

Shiro looked at him, and his eyes dark eyes gleamed, scarlet flashing in their depths as hair sprouted over his face, jaw cracking as it elongated and his teeth sharpened.

“ _Holy_ _mother of God!”_ Sam shouted, jerking backwards and nearly knocking his chair over.

Colleen gasped, and Matt turned to see the Ryou and Veronica peering at him with glowing gold eyes. Across the room, Keith was the same, but even as he watched, the color dimmed, fading back into the normal grey that he was used to.

“We can control the shift somewhat,” Shiro said into the silence. “That’s where you get the stereotypical werewolf images. But most wolves prefer the full shift.”

“So.” Matt cleared his throat nervously. “I was bitten by a werewolf.”

“You were.” Shiro nodded.

“And...I’m a werewolf now?” Matt asked. “Is that how this works?”

“Pretty much,” Shiro said dryly.

“The accelerated healing and metabolism has already kicked in,” Luis commented. “Quicker than normal, actually, which was both terrific for you, and sucked for you.”

“What does that mean?” Colleen asked.

“I means your daughter was right—Matthew  _ was _ in rough shape,” Luis said carefully. “When the Rogue bit Matt, his arm was extended, and it came at him from the side and back—about the ten o’clock position. However, because of how his arm was extended, it managed to catch his brachial artery when it bit him.”

Colleen paled.

“Not much,” Luis rushed to say. “It didn’t fully puncture it, but it nicked it. Matthew lost a lot of blood: if the healing hadn’t kicked in within the first ten minutes he very well could have bled to death before reaching the hospital.”

Matt swallowed down the sudden nausea. Doctor McClain was using the calm tone and general terms used by doctors everywhere in order to avoid alarming patients; he also wasn’t telling them everything.

“I’m...not hearing the sucky part,” he said faintly, swallowing back the bile threatening to climb up his throat.

“Most of our surgery was about re-opening wounds to make sure that all the debris was cleared out, and we had to reset your bone where it had started to heal incorrectly.” Luis said mildly. “On the plus side, the healing  _ really _ kicked in for you, even more quickly than we normally see; you’ll be totally fine inside of a week, barring that one souvenir.” Luis concluded, tapping his arm to indicate Matt’s bite wound.

“Oh.” Matt felt a bit lightheaded. He took a deep breath, then another, and deliberately pushed the memories of the attack and the  _ could-have-been _ s aside: he was  _ not _ going to freak out here. 

“I’m not complaining—yay, survival—but what does that mean in the long run?” Matt asked, keeping his tone light. “Will I have a taste for extra-rare steak? Howl at the moon? Does the wolf that bit me control me, or something? Am I going to be a minion?”

“You are looking a little yellow.” Lance squinted at Matt speculatively. 

“Lance,” Veronica scolded, “stop scaring him.”

_ Lance _ wasn’t scaring him, Matt thought ironically. What was scaring him was all the things the doctor  _ hadn’t _ said.

“So, can anybody turn into a werewolf? Can any werewolf turn somebody  _ else _ into a werewolf?” Pidge asked. “Are all werewolves made like this?”

Matt blinked, smiling at his sister in relief. Pidge’s curiosity was historically insatiable, and once she’d latched onto something—no, too soon, Matt decided, wincing at his own phrasing.  _ Once she’d decided to learn about something _ , she was never shy about asking every single question she could think of while she sorted out information. And much like their mother, she was  _ tenacious _ .

“No, to all of that.” Shiro shook his head, interrupting Matt’s reverie. “Only an Alpha—the leader of the Pack—can administer the Bite. Pack members, called Betas, cannot. And not everybody is bitten to become a werewolf—Ryou, Keith and myself are all born wolves.”

“Born?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised. “Does that mean that your families are also werewolves?”

“Yes.” Shiro nodded.

“And will your children also be wolves?” Sam asked curiously.

“Maybe; it depends on who you marry.” Shiro shrugged. “Marrying another were, then yes. Marrying a human, maybe, maybe not.”

“My dad wasn’t a were,” Keith added. “I was born a werewolf, but if they’d had other children, my siblings might not have been.”

“So you can be born, or bitten, but only Alphas can Bite somebody and turn them,” Matt summarized. “Okay, but how are you the Alpha?”

“Chance,” Ryou deadpanned.

“Ten minutes too slow, brother,” Shiro teased. Ryou tisked and snapped his fingers.

“You were...born an Alpha?” Pidge asked, cocking her head.

“Not in fact,” Shiro replied, shaking his head. “You can become an Alpha one of a few ways: you can earn it by defeating an Alpha—if you kill them or they submit to you, you take the rank. You can inherit the position, usually by being the oldest child of the current Alpha, or the last surviving member of a Pack. Or, very rarely, a werewolf can  _ become _ an Alpha.”

“The last one is almost unheard of,” Ryou added. “And it’s usually through either extreme stress or extreme trauma.”

“Fun times,” Matt deadpanned. “So, Shiro, how did you become the Alpha?”

“Ryou and I are the last two members of our original Pack,” Shiro said evenly.

“But—” Pidge looked at Keith in confusion. “You said they’re your brothers?”

“Oh.” Keith looked surprised. “Um, not really? We’re not  _ blood _ related.”

“Keith’s Pack and our Pack were long-time allies,” Shiro explained. “When our grandparents passed away, they took us in. That was two years before Keith was born, so we’ve literally been raised together as brothers.”

“Ah. Okay,” Pidge nodded. 

“But, the point is that when my grandmother—the previous Alpha—died, I became the Alpha,” Shiro continued easily.

“Line of succession,” Sam murmured contemplatively.

“Usually.” Shiro nodded. “There have been cases where—for whatever reason—a younger child or even a different Pack member inherits the title instead, but that’s even  _ more _ rare than becoming an Alpha.” 

“So I’m a...Beta?” Matt asked.

“Yes.” Shiro nodded.

“And I’m subordinate to you?” Matt asked, frowning.

“Not...quite yet.” Shiro shrugged. “The bond to a Pack isn’t automatic like that, or else the Alpha that bit you  _ would _ have some sway over you. You can pick your Pack, and it’s really a rather broad term—Pack is just a different word for ‘family’ really. You’ll probably feel a draw to our Pack—we’re a strong, healthy group, and you’re familiar with us already. But that doesn’t mean you  _ have _ to be part of our Pack, just that the urge might be there.” 

“So are you all part of this Pack?” Pidge asked, glancing around the room. “What about your birth family, Keith? Aren’t you part of  _ that _ Pack?”

“Pack isn’t that absolute,” Shiro answered as Keith shrugged. “People can shift between Packs, and even those who aren’t wolves can be part of a wolf pack. They may not get all of the benefits, but the bonds are still there.”

“But you’re  _ all _ part of Shiro’s Pack?” Kate asked again, looking around the room.

“No,” Estella shook her head. “Luis and I are not part of the Shirogane Pack.”

“So...Lance? You and Veronica are, then?” Colleen spoke up.

“Yes.” Veronica nodded in response, then turned to face Matt. “I was bitten and turned—almost just the same as you, Matt, but a decade ago.” 

“Your side.” Matt recalled.

“So...what?” Pidge leaned back in her seat, winced, and shifted as her ribs twinged. “This random Alpha is just...running around biting people? That makes no sense. Where’s their Pack?”

“That’s where things get a little complicated,” Shiro admitted, scrubbing a hand across his neck. “Not all werewolves are in a Pack. Those who chose or are forced to be without a pack are called Omega wolves.”

“So the leader got the boot, is what I’m hearing.”

“I don’t know,” Shiro admitted, “any number of things might have happened. Being an Omega isn’t inherently a  _ bad _ thing—some werecreatures aren’t ‘Pack’ animals and are  _ all _ considered Omega. Some might not be, but are so far from their Pack that the bonds aren’t apparent. Some just choose to  _ not _ be part of a Pack.”

“Were _ creatures? _ ” Colleen asked, looking alarmed.

“We’re pretty awesome, but we’re not the only shapeshifters out there,” Ryou quipped. 

“I told you there was a bear,” Pidge muttered.

“From now on I’ll completely trust everything you say,” Colleen rolled her eyes, “even if my children are concussed, doped up on painkillers or coming off of general anesthesia, they’re completely rational and obviously remember recent traumatic events with complete clarity.”

Pidge pursed her lips. “I’m glad you understand this.”

Colleen leveled her daughter a look, but Pidge only grinned unrepentantly.

“And suddenly,” Lance said, “I see where Pidge learned that look.”

“Oh really?” Colleen raised her eyebrow.

“The future is now.” Keith nodded.

“Thanks to science?” Ryou asked, and Veronica grinned and held out her hand. Ryou obligingly slapped their palms together. 

“You’re really ruining my image of you as a responsible adult, you know,” Matt told him.

Shiro snorted. “If he didn’t manage that in the first five minutes, your head wound is either worse than we thought, or your intelligence has been severely overestimated.”

“Nah,” Pidge drawled, “he just didn’t recognise it because he’s equally immature.”

“Hey now!” Matt protested. “I am  _ very _ mature.”

“You recognized that line,” Pidge deadpanned.

“So did you!”

“And the pair of you argue like children.” Lance sniggered.

“Must be like looking in a mirror,” Estella drawled.

“Mom!”

“Tell ‘em, Mrs. M.” Keith grinned.

“Who do you think he argues  _ with? _ ” Estella asked, lips quirking as she cocked an eyebrow at the boy next to her.

“Everyone,” Keith declared staunchly. “Lance argues with everyone.”

“Okay, one, I am a  _ delight _ ,” Lance sniffed, “and two...I think you’re mistaking me for  _ you. _ ”

“Thus proving my point!” Keith shot back.

“As much fun as it is to watch you two go back and forth,” Shrio drawled, “I think we’re getting off topic.”

“What was the topic?” Lance wondered.

“Omega,” Luis supplied, grinning.

“Alright, so, Omega Alphas,” Katie said. “Not always bad, but definitely confusing. Sounds vaguely like a frat house.”

“Toss in the word ‘Rogue’ and it gets worse,” Shiro said sagely. 

“And those are…?” Sam asked leadingly.

“Rogue is basically a...lawless were,” Shiro said. “They’re rulebreakers. Some are feral, others are doing it deliberately.”

“And ‘feral’ means?” Pidge asked.

“Insane, essentially.” Shiro shrugged. “It might be trauma, like the unexpected or violent loss of a Pack, or they might have some kind of pre-existing condition. They may not be in full control of themselves or their actions.”

“Those ones are actually easier to deal with,” Ryou added. “They’re operating almost totally on animal instinct, so they behave like animals. The one who are in full control of themselves and their actions are the ones to watch out for.”

“So which one was this?” Matt asked trepidatiously. 

Ryou and Shiro traded a look. 

“...We don’t know.” Ryou admitted slowly.

“Well, that’s helpful.” Pidge said dryly. “You seriously have no idea what type of criminal this werewolf is?”

“Why would he?” Colleen asked, peering at Ryou curiously.

Ryou blinked at her in confusion before making a little noise of comprehension. Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out wallet, flipping it open to show Colleen his badge. 

“That’s right, you did mention that your brother was a policeman,” Sam said.

“We saw him in uniform back when we took that class at the dojo,” Matt added. “You’re, um…”

“Texas Highway Patrol,” Ryou supplied when Matt faltered. “Member of the Supernatural Response Team.”

“That’s a thing?” Pidge blurted out.

“I mean, to those who know, yes.” Ryou shrugged. “On paper I’m just part of a specialty response team that can be called in at the discretion of the Chief of Police.”

“The cops have a  _ werewolf division? _ ” Pidge squeaked.

“No,” Ryou laughed, “there’s not enough wolves on the force, or even in this jurisdiction, to do something like that. But there is a team of people, some of whom are supernatural creatures, who are trained to investigate situations that might be supernatural in nature, or have supernatural suspects.”

“I can’t even.” Pidge shook her head. “Okay, hit me: what else?”

“That’s not enough?” Shiro asked, amused.

“Not even close.” Pidge sniffed. “If this whole...supernatural community is so organized that they have splinter factions of the government, not to mention a presence in the hospitals,” she added, gesturing at Luis, “there’s got to be more to it than that.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Shiro said, grinning. “But that’s kind of a lot to absorb all at once, and we do have other things we need to talk about.”

Pidge eyed Shiro warily, but subsided. 

“Like...what?” Matt asked trepidatiously. “Not gonna lie; I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

“I know, and I promised we’re not expecting you to remember everything we’re talking about today.” Shiro grimaced. “Last night was rough, this morning has been rough, and even if you technically got to sleep through most of it, it’s still a lot to sort through, especially when you’re recovering. But we wanted to get the basics out there so you at least know what’s going on, and what to expect.”

“Right.” Matt tried to reach up to scrub a hand over his face, but winced as his shoulder pulled uncomfortably. “So, the takeaway is I’m a werewolf.”

“And that we’re here to help you through that,” Shiro added firmly. “It’s going to be a big transition, but you’re not going to be in it alone.”

“So, what should we expect in the upcoming...days?” Sam asked. “Weeks?”

“It’s going to be an adjustment,” Shiro said. “The first few months is a lot of learning to control the shift, and dealing with new behavior and instincts as Matt and his wolf line up. I have some basic information to give you, but Veronica and Luis are the ones who really understand the process in-depth.”

“Luis?” Sam turned to stare at the younger man. “Aren’t you a human?”

“I am.” Luis nodded. “But I’m also a doctor who specializes in supernatural medicine—it’s why I was called in this morning.”

“Who called you?” Colleen asked curiously. 

“I did,” Ryou said. “Or, rather, I directed the dispatcher to. They called EMS, and the ambulance brought Matt here, where Doc McClain met them to take over care.”

“So...the ambulance people were…” Colleen looked to be struggling.

“No.” Luis shook his head. “Or, maybe? There’s a chance somebody was in the know, but that’s part of my job—I not only make sure supers get the  _ correct _ care, but I help bury any irregularities. It’s also why Matt had to come all the way back to Corpus Christi, instead of being taken to the hospital in Victoria.”

“I thought perhaps he was just stable enough to make it,” Colleen murmured.

“Right! So, um… Shiro is going to hand out information, I’ll talk to Veronica and Doctor McClain with questions, uh, what else?” Matt asked with forced cheer.

“When you came in, you said Lance brought  _ Katie _ to your attention. A few weeks ago,” Colleen said, peering at Estella.

“And you said there was somebody in here to meet  _ me, _ ” Pidge said, glancing at Ryou before turning to Lance’s mother. “Why?”

Matt regarded Lance suspiciously. Lance had only met Pidge earlier  _ this month _ , which meant that he had basically run right home to tell his mom about a girl he met in a coffee shop. Lance was a flirt, but he didn’t pay any particular attention to Pidge that Matt had seen outside of general friendliness. And his sister had said last night (had it really only been  _ last night? _ ) that Keith had asked her out on a date. Even given Lance and Keith’s obviously close relationship, Lance’s actions still didn’t make sense: Estella’s wording had made it sound like there was an entire conversation about Pidge, rather than “my buddy met a girl he thinks is cute.”

“You’re here to meet my daughter?” Sam frowned at Estella.

“I am.” Estella nodded. “The situation isn’t strictly Pack business, however, though it  _ is _ related. You see, I’m the leader of the local Coven, and—”

_ “Coven?” _

Estella glanced around the room in amusement as the word was blurted out of several throats simultaneously. Next to her, Keith pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh. Veronica giggled.

“Like  _ witches? _ ” Pidge gaped openly, then turned to Lance. “Are you saying you’re a  _ witch? _ ”

“I did ask if you wanted to see a trick,” Lance quipped.

“Gonna pull a bunny out of your hat?” 

The tone had a derisive measure to it, but Pidge’s face was so openly curious that Lance couldn’t find it in him to take offense. Instead he turned to his mother, unspoken question in his eyes. Estella simply shrugged, and gestured for him to go ahead. Lance turned back to Katie with a smile.

He was reasonably sure that his mother simply expected him to make a little light ball—it was a basic enough cantrip, and one of the first that every spellcaster would learn, even if he did have trouble with it. Or perhaps she thought he’d play more to his strengths and use the water on the bedside table to put on a little show, like sending it arcing through the air or freezing it into little ice crystals. Certainly she knew that Pidge would accept the information more readily from him than from her.

Instead, Lance lessened his grasp on the emotions of the room—the initial shock had worn off enough that he could do so without sending anybody into a panic, he felt. Licking his lips, he rubbed his thumbs over his fingertips, drawing the innate power in his veins, the faint  _ push-pull _ sensation, up closer to the surface. Lance held out his hand palm up between them, showing her the faint glow on his fingertips. It took a bit more effort to make the power visible, but well worth it when her eyes went round.

“The thing about magic,” Lance said conversationally, “is that it’s all around us. A lot of people can’t access it, but for those who  _ can _ , it leaves a trace. Even if you don’t access it  _ knowingly _ , it permeates you. Werewolves like Keith tell me that it smells like ozone—the scent on the wind just before a lightning strike.

“I can’t smell that, though, so I just have to take his word for it. But what I  _ can _ do, if I meet somebody whom I think might be magical, is push a little of my power into them. It’s pretty basic,” he added, “but if the person can’t access magic, it’s simply absorbed, and they don’t feel it at all. It’s just a touch. But if a person is a magic-user, then mine kind of...bounces off of theirs. Usually it generates a little shock—almost like static electricity.”

Lance paused, and waited for Pidge to tear her eyes off of his softly glowing fingertips, her gaze rising to meet his. He saw the dawning comprehension in them, and grinned.

“The coffee shop,” she said softly. Blinked, and cleared her throat. “That first day that you and Keith came in, when I handed you your order.” 

“The jolt can be pretty easily mistaken for static electricity,” Lance nodded, extending his hand a little further and wiggling his fingers, gratified when Pidge responded to the gesture by reaching out to let her hand hover uncertainty between them. “But sometimes you also get a little  _ spark _ —”

His hand darted up, cupping her fingers, fully expecting the fizzle where their skin met, and the light that crackled between their hands. Pidge jumped, and Lance rubbed his thumb across her knuckles soothingly. He held her gaze, and smiled at the wonder and awe and apprehension he saw there.

“And that’s how I knew you were a witch.”


	11. The Next Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'Wow. That was possibly the least suave or sexy thing ever said.'_ Pidge internally cringed, but resisted the urge to face-palm because it would only add to the mortification. _'Badass biker boy with a hero complex offers you a ride on his motorcycle, and you bring your_ mom _into it? Way to go, Pidge.'_
> 
> We resume our regularly schedule programming with two awkward beans who are awkwardly trying to comminucate and flirt and...it's adorkable.
> 
> Also, Adam, Lotor, and a missing hat.

“I hate magic!”

Ryou glanced up as Lieutenant Sorlin stormed into the break room. “—Said the banshee to the werewolf,” he muttered into his coffee cup.

Lieutenant Sorlin gave him a droll look and slapped a sheet of paper down on his desk.

Sighing, Ryou set his coffee cup down and picked up the report. “This back from the lab already?” he asked.

“Yes,” Elaine said shortly, storming over to the coffee pot and grabbing a mug. Ryou skimmed the report as his coworker dumped creamer and sugar into her cup and leaned back against the counter with a sigh.

Ryou scowled as he looked down at the paper. “Is this everything?”

“No, thank goodness,” Lieutenant Sorlin said. “Just the initial report—it’s high profile, so the Captain wanted an update first thing, and the lab techs passed me a copy.”

The initial report wasn’t very promising. So far all of the hair and fiber samples had been matched to pack members. Prints were a bit harder to distinguish since animals didn’t have fingerprints in the same way humans did, but the wolf print sizes were in line with pack members. Only two sets of prints had been found leading away from the campsite, so those were most likely his and Veronica’s.

“How much more do we have to go through?” He asked, frowning. “What about the blood on the fork?”

“They’re trying to get something off of it, but it was dropped on the ground and may have rolled through the victim’s blood,” Elaine said matter of factly. “They’re working it, but at first glance the sample seems contaminated.”

“Well, shit,” Ryou muttered.

“Yeah,” Elaine agreed, sliding into the chair across from him and tipping her head back. “We’ve got a meeting about it in an hour. Happy Monday.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Good morning, welcome to The Daily Grind!” Pidge called out automatically as the door jangled behind her. She turned from the fussy nozzle to glance at the man approaching the counter. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

“No worries,” he said, smiling at her as he shoved his glasses up his nose. “I’m not in a rush.”

Pidge rinsed out the pitcher she’d been using to catch dirty water and set it aside, turning back to the counter to find a man examining the math homework she’d left sitting out, a well-worn baseball cap sitting on the counter next to him. The glow from the tablet screen glinted off his odd, half-framed glasses as he examined her work.

“Oh, sorry about that,” she said, reaching for the tablet, mindful of her still-aching ribs. “I didn’t mean to leave it out.”

“No big deal—you got problem three wrong though,” he said gesturing to the problem in question with a tan hand. “It should be ‘r equals 7.56’ not ‘r equals 6.43.’”

“Hm?” Pidge frowned down at the tablet. The man helpfully plucked a pen from the cup by the counter, using the tip to point to where in the work she’d made a mistake.

“See?” he said, gesturing to the problem. “You divided by six.”

“And I should have divided by three,” Pidge hummed, offering him a grin. “Thanks!”

“Not a problem,” he replied, as he straightened.

“That was pretty good—most people wouldn’t have spotted that so quickly,” Pidge said, impressed. “Are you a college student?”

“Not anymore,” the man chuckled, “though I did have a part-time job as a TA while I was in school.”

“Neat,” Pidge said, moving to stand carefully behind the register. “What can I get you?”

“Um, just a drip coffee, I think.” The man shrugged. “I’m not much of a coffee drinker, honestly, but it was a long weekend and I need the kick.”

“I can second that,” Pidge agreed, sighing. Matt had been discharged from the hospital yesterday, with strict instructions to take it easy and not go anywhere outside of the doctor or to the Espinosa-McClain residence for lessons. He hadn’t been awake when she’d left, but a peek into his room had revealed him twitching in his sleep, wearing a pair of noise-cancelling headphones, his covers kicked down to the foot of his bed.

Whole. Alive and breathing, without any terror on his face. Pushing the residual fear away, Pidge smiled up at the man. “Well, what kind of tea do you drink? Do you like hot coffee, or iced? Do you like sweets?”

“Usually green tea, sometimes black if I need a kick.” The man shrugged. “I do drink coffee, too, on occasion. Iced coffee is...cold? I don’t mind sweets.”

“If you just need a bit more of a boost to help wake you up, you might prefer iced coffee,” Pidge offered. “A lot of my customers prefer that. And if you like a little sugar, I can either put a couple pumps of plain syrup in, or flavored syrup if you prefer—it doesn’t have to dissolve the way regular granulated sugar does. Vanilla and hazelnut are the popular flavors, but caramel is tasty too.”

The man considered the board. “....Alright, that sounds good. Medium, easy ice, with, hmm...vanilla syrup.” Pidge rang him up, swiping his card and handing him the receipt for his signature. The man used the pen he was still holding to sign, before setting it down on the counter neatly.

“Name for the order?” Pidge asked, slipping the cap off of her sharpie after she’d selected the cup.

“Adam,” the man replied. Dutifully, Pidge wrote it on the side of the cup, before turning to the freezer to pour in some ice. Once she’d checked to make sure the level was good, she moved to the fridge, pulling out the chilled brewed coffee they kept in there and hesitating at the creamer.

“Do you want creamer?” she asked.

“Yes, please,” Adam replied, leaning against the counter to watch her work. “Whole milk, about the color of my skin.”

Turning, Pidge squinted at his tan for a second before dumping a bit in.

“Where did you go to school?” Pidge asked, pouring coffee over the milk to mix them and holding the cup up for his approval. With his messy hair and unlined face, she figured he was probably a recent college graduate—maybe Matt knew him? Then again, Matt was another weird child prodigy who studied an obscure field at an accelerated rate so...probably not.

“Looks good.” Adam nodded, before continuing, “I attended Louisiana State, Construction Science major with a minor in Mathematics.”

Pidge whistled appreciatively, pumping the flavored syrup into the cup, giving the whole thing a quick stir to mix and ignoring the twinge in her ribs before popping on a lid and handing it to him. 

“So you’re basically a math nerd,” she said, then froze as her brain caught up with her mouth flushing in mortification.

But Adam only laughed, and Pidge allowed herself a tentative smile, relieved that he wasn’t offended. 

“The nerdiest,” he agreed cheerfully.

Impulsively, Pidge selected an apple out of the fruit basket on the counter and handed it to him.

“The average apple contains about thirteen grams of sugar,” Pidge explained. “Actually eating the apple is a good way to wake up—you know, the crunch and crispness and all—but the sugar is actually absorbed slowly by your system to give you a sustained boost that wears off naturally.”

“Really.” The man blinked and studied the apple. “Wish I’d known that in college. How much?”

“On the house,” Pidge waved him off with a grin. “It’s Monday, and it’s early, and you seem like you could use the boost. Have a good day!”

“Thanks,” the man replied, waving happily as he headed out the door, holding it open for the next person before continuing on his way.

“Welcome to The Daily Grind,” Pidge recited, smiling automatically at the woman in front of her, “what can I get for you today?”

“Medium iced caramel americano, please,” the woman said succinctly. Pidge nodded, automatically reaching to type in the order, when she spied the baseball cap sitting innocently on the counter.

“Ah, one moment please!” Pidge snatched the hat up, moving quickly as she could to the end of the counter and sliding around it. Walking to the door, she looked out into the small parking lot, but didn’t see any cars running or driving away. Clicking her tongue in disappointment, Pidge made her way back to the cash register, offering the woman an apologetic smile as she stowed the hat under the counter, hoping that Adam would remember his hat and return for it later.

Monday’s were notoriously busy, but by 9:30 a.m., the worst of the rush had cleared out, and Pidge was taking advantage of the lull to finish off her homework while she waited for her shift to end. 

She was in the middle of a problem and scribbling furiously on her scratch sheet when the door jangled, and Pidge looked up to see Keith standing inside the door, fingers curled around the strap of a backpack slung casually over his shoulder. 

A lightweight jacket that seemed out of place in the heat was unzipped and hanging open to reveal a casual red t-shirt underneath. Dark jeans worn white at the seams with stress and age sat low on his hips, revealing a sliver of pale skin where his shirt rode up. His hair was mussed, and his smile oddly hesitant as he hovered inside the doorway.

“Keith,” Pidge smiled at him and hoped she wasn’t drooling. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing good,” Keith said, coming up to the counter before pausing, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “How are you doing? How is Matt?”

Pidge’s brow furrowed at his nervous behavior, but before she could question it, Keith paused, nostrils flaring as he very obviously _scented the air._

“Who was here?” he asked urgently. 

“What?” Pidge asked, confused. “Holy cow, are you _sniffing?_ ”

Keith was looking around, brow furrowing as his eyes trailed across the handful of patrons spaced out across the shop. “Keep it down,” he hissed.

Pidge glanced around the shop, wondering if anybody was actually close enough to hear them before leaning carefully over the counter. “What the _hell_ are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out who the wolf is,” Keith whispered back. “I can’t—” he paused, staring at her quizzically. “Do you have something behind the counter? Or… is that Matt? Have you been close to him today?”

“Um.” Pidge leaned back, blinking. “I’ve been here since five this morning. Matt was still sleeping, and I don’t think he was rubbing on my uniform...but no bets. He’s been _weird_ since he got out of the hospital.”

Keith snorted, but with another frowning glance around the shop, let himself be distracted. “He’s new. Veronica was nuts for a while—don’t ever tell her I said that, she’ll kill me—and Lance has some great stories if you’re interested.”

“It might help to know what the hell to expect,” Pidge grumbled. “We’re flying blind here.”

“For now.” Keith offered her a brief smile, reaching across the counter to touch the back of her hand with the tips of his fingers. “You guys aren’t alone in this.”

Pidge relaxed. “Thanks, that helps to hear. What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have class?”

“It let out early today,” Keith said with a shrug. “I’ve got a while before I need to be down to the port, so I figured I would come see how you were doing.”

Pidge hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t really talk right now, but I get off shift in about thirty minutes. How long do you have?”

“A while.” Keith waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the parking lot. “I was just going to go home and root around the fridge for some lunch—I don’t have work until two.”

“I have a class at one, but I’m free until about noon,” Pidge offered, feeling suddenly shy. “We could… talk somewhere, maybe?”

Keith smiled. “That would be great. I’ll just grab a drink and hang around for a bit then?”

“Sure, what do you want?” Pidge asked.

“Large iced coffee, add cream, no sugar.” Keith was rung up and wandering off to find a table in short order, and Pidge filled the last of her shift wiping down equipment and restocking before her replacement came in. 

It wasn’t until she was retrieving her water cup from under the counter that she recalled the hat that had been left earlier. Curiously, she took it with her to the table where Keith was sitting, jacket draped across the back of the chair and his backpack resting against his ankle as he fiddled with something on his phone. 

Her suspicions were confirmed when, as she approached, his head jerked up, nostrils twitching subtly as his eyes narrowed.

“Was this what you were smelling earlier?” she asked quietly, setting the battered old ball cap on the table between them. 

“Yes,” Keith said shortly, inhaling quietly and frowning. “Where did you get that?”

“A customer left it here this morning,” Pidge replied. “I couldn’t catch him before he left, so I put it under the counter in case he came back.”

Keith’s mouth tightened. “Can I have that?”

Pidge frowned as she considered. “Is there a particular reason you need it? Who was that guy?”

“I don’t know,” Keith replied shortly. “And that’s—” he paused, and visibly reigned himself in. “Can we go somewhere else? This isn’t really a public conversation.”

“Sure,” Pidge agreed. “Where do you want to go?”

“The park down the road?” Keith offered. “Just someplace it isn’t so easy to eavesdrop.”

“Alright.” Pidge nodded. “But I’m leaving this here in case the owner returns. If you _need_ it for something…” she trailed off, eyebrow raised questioningly.

Keith grimaced. “I… don’t know. Leave it here for now, but we need to talk somewhere else.”

“Okay.” Pidge pushing back from the table, moving back to stash the hat under the counter in case the owner returned. On impulse, she grabbed a napkin and rubbed it along the inside band—if Keith’s nose had been sensitive enough to catch the scent of it under the counter, maybe some would stick to the napkin? Frowning, Pidge folded the napkin and shoved it in her pocket before turning to meet Keith at the door. “Your car, mine, or do you just want me to follow you?”

“I have a motorcycle,” Keith said offhandedly, holding the door open for her to step through first. 

Sure enough, there’s a red-and-silver motorcycle parked next to her practical little Honda Civic. Pidge paused to admire it. “That explains the jacket, I guess.”

“Mmhm.” Keith’s eyes angled towards her, lips quirking into a sly smirk. “Want a ride?”

 _'There are so many ways this could go,'_ P idge thought, licking her lips and forcing her gaze back to the steel-and-chrome monstrosity sitting quiescent in the parking lot as she recalled exactly _how_ enhanced Matt’s new sense of smell was. Brutally trying to direct herself from anything embarrassing, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “My mom would kill me.”

 _'Wow. That was possibly the least suave or sexy thing ever said.'_ Pidge internally cringed, but resisted the urge to face-palm because it would only add to the mortification. ' _Badass biker boy with a hero complex offers you a ride on his motorcycle, and you bring your_ mom _into it? Way to go, Pidge.'_

“Well,” Keith’s expression didn’t change as he held up his keys and let them dangle from his finger. “I _suppose_ I could just follow you—”

“I didn’t say that!” Pidge said hastily, reaching for the keys. “Gimmie.”

Keith lifted his hand out of her reach, eyebrow quirking as his mouth was tugged into an honest smile. “Hold on there, tiger. I thought your mom would kill you?”

Pidge resisted the urge to jump for the keys and prove herself the child she felt like. Instead she paused and told him seriously, “What she doesn’t know won’t kill me. And neither would you, right?”

She’d meant it as teasing, but Keith’s voice was unexpectedly serious despite the smile still on his face. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” Pidge opened her mouth, unsure of how to respond, but Keith was already holding the jacket out. “Lance has the extra helmet, but you’ll wear mine today.”

“What about you?” Pidge asked, automatically shifting to slip her arms into the jacket, somewhat bemused as Keith zipped it up for her, fastening it under her throat and tightening the velcro at her waist. The jacket was actually mostly layered mesh, she discovered, but was oddly stiff along the forearms and over the elbows and shoulders.

“We’re only going down the road,” Keith shrugged, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a matte black helmet. “And even if we weren’t, this stuff is mostly for show. I’ll heal from pretty much anything as long as it’s not amputated.”

“The helmet?”

“Brain damage is brain damage, no matter who you are,” Keith said seriously. “I might be able to heal from most of it, _eventually,_ but not if it’s smeared across the asphalt.”

“Eww,” Pidge wrinkled her nose as Keith unlocked a box attached to the side of the bike and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, sliding them on before he stashed his backpack inside. 

In short order, Pidge was on the back of the bike, arms wrapped around Keith’s waist as they zipped down the road towards a nearby park. 

The ride was simultaneously way too short and an eternity too long—who knew that riding as a passenger was still such a workout? 

Having an excuse to wrap her arms around a cute guy was nice, but her ribs protested the sustained motion, and Pidge was a little afraid to lean her entire weight against him to lessen the strain. 

Leaning with the turns made her abused ribs ache, and left her a little short of breath, but she tried to hide her wince as she gingerly slid off of the seat, lamenting that she couldn’t enjoy her first motorcycle ride as much as she’d hoped.

She was dreading the ride back, even though it was only a few minutes down the road. She fumbled with the helmet, gritting her teeth as she pulled it off and handing it back to Keith gratefully before she unzipped the jacket. His brow furrowed as he frowned at her.

“Are you alright?” he asked hesitantly.

“Fine,” Pidge said shortly, striving for a nonchalance she _definitely_ was not feeling at the moment. “Ribs are kind of twingey.”

Keith regarded her suspiciously, but didn’t press the issue, and instead directed her to a bench underneath a nearby laurel tree, watching her as she sat down carefully before handing her the water cup. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Keith settled himself on the bench, careful to put enough space between them to keep Pidge comfortable (in case she wasn’t—something he wasn’t entirely certain about yet) and to allow him to twist and see her fully. He felt pulled in a half-dozen directions simultaneously, with too many conflicting desires warring inside of him, and he wasn’t happy about the current anxiety in his life. 

He’d lied blatantly about his class, taking advantage of Pidge’s inability to suss that out to visit her and hopefully lay to rest some of the questions nagging at him. However, wandering into her store and finding that another, unknown werewolf had been in, leaving scent smeared along the counter like a warning, had thrown him off. 

Keith was not typically a territorial person, but after the events of the weekend and this new uncertainty in his life it had been hard to resist the urge to tug her in close, to rub himself over her and mark her as _his_ in case this new threat returned. 

Which was unacceptable. He knew that. Not only were they in public, and at Pidge’s place of work, but she _wasn’t_ his, and Matt hadn’t accepted their offer of kinship to allow him to claim her as Pack, either. Moreover, after the events of the past weekend, it would be completely believable that she didn’t want to go on a date with him. 

Keith had never had a serious enough relationship where telling the person who didn’t know about his was an option, so he wasn’t sure how to feel about Pidge’s violent introduction to this other side of him. She may well decide that she preferred a more professional, less personal relationship with the Pack, and Keith would have to accept that.

He could, if he had to. It wasn’t what he _wanted_ , but if it was what Pidge decided was right for her, then Keith would do his best to respect her decision. Still, until everything was discussed and decided, Keith found himself unable to settle down. 

Shiro had warned him off of trying to visit on Sunday, saying that the Holts needed a day of peace and quiet to come to terms and to study some of the information they had been given. However, Pidge hadn’t said anything about _today_ (probably assuming that Keith would have a full schedule between class and work, as usual), so when Keith found himself halfway through the lecture and recalling exactly none of it, he’d faked sick and taken the opportunity to get to the source of his current unrest.

Now, though, he was torn. He wanted to talk to Pidge about their new relationship, and to make sure he knew where she stood in regards to him, but he also wanted to know more about this werewolf who had wandered into her workplace with such suspicious timing.

Not to mention that he was distracted from all of that by arcid undertones of _pain_ in her scent. She’d shrugged him off when he’d asked a bit ago, but she was still holding herself stiffly. Frowning, Keith recalled what he could of her injuries: she’d told Lance, and the doctors, that the Rogue had thrown her to the ground, and had stepped on her.

“How is your head doing?” Keith asked tentatively. 

“Not bad,” Pidge replied. “The doctor said as long as I take it easy, I should be fine.”

“You had a concussion, right? And your ribs?” Keith pursed his lips as he tried to recall. Lingering injuries weren’t something he had first-hand experience with, himself, but the first-aid training required for his jobs gave him some insight into how they were handled. “Are you in pain?”

“Not a lot,” Pidge said diffidently, but a jump in her pulse belied her casual attitude. “I’m on the good drugs,” she added with a smirk.

Keith blinked, and gave a surreptitious sniff. “Are you _taking_ the good drugs?” he asked dubiously. She didn’t have the chemical smell that denoted prescription-strength painkillers that humans sometimes took, nor did she have the sharp menthol-scent of somebody using a topical ointment for muscle pain.

“Um. Yes?” Pidge shifted a bit on the bench, clearing her throat as a tinge of pink crept into her cheeks when Keith’s brow lifted. “At night, mostly. They make me groggy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with taking a few days off when you’re injured,” Keith felt compelled to point out. “Lance sprained his ankle once and cried about it for a week.”

Keith knew he’d made a mistake when Pidge’s brown crinkled into a frown. “Well, maybe I don’t want to _cry about it,_ ” she snapped, lips pursing irritably. “Besides, Matt practically _bounced_ out of bed yesterday, and his arm was nearly torn off!”

 _“Matt,”_ Keith stressed, “is a werewolf now. If he wasn’t healing quickly, you’d be having bigger issues.”

Pidge sighed, and fiddled with her cup absently. “I know that. I do. But Matt was hurt so much worse than I was, so… I feel bad complaining about it. If he can shrug off having an artery nicked and bone fragments dug out of his shoulder, I can take a couple bruised ribs and a headache. And I _am_ taking the pain pills, but they make me tired and woozy and I _hate_ it.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith replied, for lack of anything better to say. He couldn’t say he _understood_ , because he didn’t, not really. He’s heard other werecreatures say that humans were weak, or call them feeble, and deride their lack of healing powers. Keith had been injured before, of course, but there’s very few things that will do lasting damage to a werewolf (or most other werecreatures), so he had never dealt with injuries lingering the same way. 

However, having experienced the pain of a broken leg before, as well as a dislocated shoulder, Keith wouldn’t call _anyone_ who dealt with that level of pain for _weeks_ while it healed ‘weak.’

“It’s okay; I’ll be alright,” Pidge said, lips firming as she turned to look at him. “So. What did you want to talk about?”

Keith shrugged, willing to let the subject go since it was obviously upsetting her. “I mostly wanted to make sure you were alright. Friday was…intense, and you had a lot dropped on you on Saturday. Yesterday was really the first time you’ve really had a chance to absorb everything.”

“It’s been...an adjustment,” Pidge says finally, after a lengthy pause, looking down and gripping the cup in her lap. “Mom wasn’t willing to let Matt go back to his apartment, so he spent the night in his old bedroom. All of our camping gear—and Matt’s car, actually—are being held and searched for evidence. Matt has doctor’s orders to skip his classes and his internships for the foreseeable future, because he’s supposed to be recovering, so he can’t really go out. Which. I’m okay with that, right now? I keep having nightmares that he died, so having him nearby helps.”

Pidge smelled and looked so _sad,_ lost and forlorn and younger than she was, that Keith couldn’t help it; he reached out and cupped the side of her face, smoothing a thumb over her cheekbone and tipping her chin up. The saline scent of tears tinged the air, combining with tang of pain and the undertones of remembered fear, and her clear brown eyes were suspiciously shiny as she met his gaze. 

“You’re not alone in this,” he reminded her solemnly. “It’s okay to _not_ be okay. I’m— _We’re_ all here for you, and your family. We’ll get you guys through this.”

“I know that.” Pidge’s smile was watery, but sincere. “I’m just...still processing, I guess. We all are.”

“What can we do to help?”

Pidge takes a deep breath. “You already are. Matt is going to be treated by doctors who know what’s going on, he’s going to get, like, ‘werewolf lessons’ from your brothers, and Dr. McClain even gave mom the numbers for some counselors who know...this kind of stuff. Lance’s sister knows what Matt’s going through, too.”

“She was bitten when she was fourteen,” Keith confirms. “Same type of attack. Actually, Lance might be a good person to talk to? For you? He got to go through all of this when Veronica was bitten.”

Pidge’s eyebrow lifted. “But...didn’t he already know all of this? I mean—” she gestured to Keith vaguely, “didn’t he know you guys?”

“No.” Keith shook his head. “My home Pack, the Marmora Pack, is up beyond Willis. My Uncle Kolivan is the head Alpha for the Houston area.”

“That’s right, I remember now.” Pidge hummed. “But then Shiro and...Ryou? Were taken in by you guys. I think.”

Keith nodded. “Their family, the Shirogane Pack, was a very small one. Their parents were killed when they were very small, and when they were seven, their grandparents passed away and they came to live with my pack because we were close allies. So they grew up in New Waverly, not Corpus Christi.”

“And no other packs moved in?” Pidge wrinkled her nose in confusion.

Keith shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. Allura would be the one to ask about that—she held the territory in trust until Shiro was old enough to come back and take over as Alpha. Point is, even though Lance grew up knowing about magic, he didn’t have any real experience with werewolves. It was a pretty steep learning curve for them, too.”

“At least they had _a_ clue,” Pidge grumbled. “The deep end sucks. Especially when all you have to keep you afloat is a book and a suddenly-cuddly brother.”

“Wolves are pretty tactile,” Keith offered, “and territorial. Matt is being...driven, really, to make sure you smell like him.”

“I don’t want to smell like a stinky boy!” Pidge complained, but her lips were twitching up into a smile.

“Tough luck,” Keith mock-scowled back, then shrugged. “Werewolves are, hm, _territorial,_ ” he said, trying to decide which words would freak her out less. “More so than other creatures, because we usually have larger territories. We want our things—and family—to smell like us. It helps calm us down, and it lets other people know to stay away from our Pack members. He’s marking his territory, essentially.”

“I _suppose_ I could handle the extra hugs,” Pidge said sardonically. “As long as he doesn’t pee on me.”

 _“Well…”_ Keith drawled, then laughed at Pidge’s horrified look.

“Oh my God, _no!”_ Pidge stared at him. “Tell me you are _not_ serious.”

Keith only laughed harder.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Pidge grumbled, but Keith could hear the undercurrent of amusement there. “If that happens, we will be having _words._ ”

“At least he’ll heal quickly from whatever you do to him,” Keith sniggered.

“Who said I would do anything physical?” Pidge asked, eyebrow arching. “I have much more interesting ways of getting revenge.”

“That’s a little scary,” Keith admitted. “But, don’t worry; if he pees on you, it has nothing to do with being a wolf. He’s just an ass. I was serious about the marking thing, though. We call it scenting and it’s...soothing.”

Pidge tilted her head curiously.

“Scent...tells us so much more than just words,” Keith said haltingly. “It tells us, I don’t know, _everything_. It tells us who our family is, how they’re feeling, if they’re sick or upset. Having somebody important to you carry your scent is soothing—it lets you know that you’re cared for and protected, and that you’ll protect them, too. There’s a lot of touching involved with Packs. Whenever somebody leaves, when they come back, just...casual contact.”

“So I should expect that from Matt.”

“Especially right now,” Keith affirmed. “Everything is new and overwhelming, and he’s probably pretty scared. Uncertain. Having family— _Pack_ —close by will help him keep control, and will make dealing with everything easier.”

“Well, mom will be pleased,” Pidge said wryly, shifting in her seat. Keith tried not to wince at the renewed scent of pain as she did so. “She misses not having snuggly babies who want to cuddle… Not that I think she wants her twenty-four-year-old son trying to crawl into her lap, but still.”

“Yeah,” Keith chuckled lightly at the mental image. His phone buzzed, and Keith pulled it out of his back pocket. Humming, he typed a quick reply and set it in his lap.

“What time is it?” Pidge asked curiously. 

“It’s been about twenty minutes, you’ve got a bit more time,” Keith replied. “Matt probably won’t try to crawl into anybody’s lap—probably—but he might sit next to you, and lean against you. Hugs. Cheek rubs, or a hand on you.”

 _'Giving you articles of clothing to wear,'_ Keith knew better than to add. Pidge was new to all of this, and hadn’t seen the motorcycle-riding ploy for what it was (though, if Keith had remembered her injuries, he would have reconsidered), and Keith wasn’t sure how to explain it to her if she asked. Honestly, he couldn’t explain it to _himself._

 _'And you just asked Lance to meet you at the coffee shop,'_ Keith grimaced. Lance was one of the most astute people he knew, and absolutely tenacious when he wanted to be. 

As if on cue, his phone buzzed, Lance responding to his query with an ' _ETA 15m_ ’, which meant that Lance was already in his jeep leaving campus. Even if Keith rushed Pidge back to the coffee shop right this moment, Lance would still be curious about why he’d been there in the first place. And why he’d skipped class to do it.

Keith was torn: on one hand, he shouldn’t be ashamed of liking Pidge and wanting to check in on her, nor should he be worried about how his interest would affect Lance (he’d watched Lance chase after other girls—and boys—plenty of times). 

On the other, they’d both kept other relationships separate from _their_ relationship: Keith had never had a girlfriend (or boyfriend) who was in the same social circles as Lance, and Lance returned the favor for Keith, not parading his latest conquests where the other boy could see (or smell) it. _Some_ crossover was inevitable, but there had always been a tacit, non-verbal agreement that they wouldn’t expose other relationships to each other more than strictly necessary.

But Pidge had been in the middle from the start, and even if Lance said he wasn’t upset (had encouraged him, actually), Keith didn’t like the idea of hurting Lance by showing him how much Pidge affected him. 

Lance had Pidge as a student in his surfing class, she would be learning magic with his coven, and they would probably be seeing each other at the dojo as well (at _least_ until Matt learned control, and longer if he accepted them as his Pack). Keith was very thoroughly breaking their unspoken agreement by pursuing somebody who was poised to be a friend to _both_ of them.

 _'She still hasn’t agreed to date you,'_ Keith reminded himself firmly. Sure, Pidge had agreed to _a_ date, but that was _before_ she’d been abruptly introduced the existence of the supernatural community in an incredibly violent and traumatic way. There was every chance she would decide that dating a werewolf wasn’t something she wanted to do. She might prefer somebody more human, or even want to avoid dating within the supernatural community altogether. 

In which case, all of his worrying was for absolutely nothing...even if the thought of Pidge dating anybody else, of being covered in _their_ scent and not _his,_ made him defensive and upset for reasons he couldn’t name.

“Keith?” Pidge frowned, reaching out and poking him as he startled and blinked at her. “You alright? You got kind of quiet.”

“Do you still want to go on a date?” Keith blurted out.

“Uh,” Pidge looked absolutely bewildered by the abrupt change of topic, and Keith cringed.

“I mean, you know, I asked before, but you didn’t really know about _all this_ —” he babbled, gesturing expansively to indicate the general insanity of it all. “—so I wanted to ask again, just in case you’d. Um. Changed your mind… ” he finished lamely, feeling his cheeks heat up. ' _Way to go, Casanova.'_

“Ah,” Pidge said, eyebrows still raised. “So, you thought I wouldn’t want to go out because you’re a werewolf?”

“Well, not just that,” Keith said, wondering why he was still digging his hole deeper. “But with, you know, _everything_ that happened this weekend.”

“Hm.” Pidge tilted her head, humming a little. “I hadn’t actually thought about it like that.”

“How...did you think about it, then?” Keith asked curiously.

“I was more worried you wouldn’t want to date _me,_ ” Pidge admitted with a shrug that turned into another wince as her shoulders dropped abruptly. “I mean, you got to deal with crazy, sleep-deprived Katie, who basically admitted to hunting cryptids, and then hysterical Katie who was pretty much useless in an emergency. Then I cornered you in a hospital room—probably looking like an asylum escapee—and demanded you tell me everything.”

Keith pressed his lips together to not smile. “Well, cryptids are real, so, there’s that. You weren’t useless in an emergency—you held off an _Alpha werewolf_ until help could arrive, and I really don’t think you understand the magnitude of that. You didn’t look like an asylum escapee either; you looked like somebody who had just been through a traumatic situation and was trying to deal with it as best they could,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I still want to go on a date with you?”

“And don’t think I don’t want to know more about _why_ there was an Alpha werewolf toddling around southern Texas,” Pidge added, frowning severely at him. “But regardless, yes, I would also still like to go on a date, if you’re still interested.”

“I am.” Keith grinned at her, relieved and happy when she smiled back. “As for the rest, we don’t really know much more than you do,” he admitted reluctantly. “Ryou and Shiro might know more, and I’m certain we’ll hear more soon since they’re now in our neck of the woods, but there’s not a whole lot else we can tell you.”

“Is it the same one who bit Veronica?” Pidge asked.

Keith paused. “I...kind of doubt it. Veronica was bitten a _decade_ ago, and there weren’t more than two or three rogues between then and now, and only one was an Alpha.”

“Why is that?” Pidge asked.

“They’re usually caught and handled pretty quickly,” Keith explained. “The police take supernatural threats seriously, and usually if somebody has gone rogue or feral, there’s a _reason._ Resolve the reason, resolve the problem.”

“It still blows my mind that the government knows about all this,” Pidge muttered as Keith’s phone buzzed again. “Like...what the hell? Conspiracy, much?”

“Not as much as you’d think,” Keith replied, glancing down at his phone. Lance had either sped, or hit all the green lights on his way to the coffee shop. “The supernatural community is pretty diverse, and while we’re relatively stronger, we’re also a _lot_ smaller than the human portion of the population, so staying under the radar is in everybody’s best interest. We have our own, hm... _society_ , but we work with the human government to make sure that everybody is as safe as they can be. Also, Lance is waiting for us.”

“What?” Pidge glanced around in confusion.

“Lance.” Keith gestured to his phone, lifting it to show here the simple ‘ _here!_ ’ displayed in the preview box. “He’s at The Daily Grind waiting for us.”

“Oh.” Pidge stood up from the bench, brushing a hand over the seat of her jeans absently as she did so. Keith’s eyes flickered to the motion before snapping back up to her face. “I guess we’d better go meet him, then.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, rising and grabbing his backpack. “A bored Lance is a dangerous Lance.”

“Oh yeah?” Pidge asked, eyebrow quirking as she picked up her cup and started walking back towards Keith’s motorcycle. 

“Absolutely.” Keith nodded, walking alongside her, fingers twitching as he resisted the urge to grab her hand. “Lance is hot and he knows it, so he’s a flirt. Watch—by the time we get there, he’ll have positioned himself in the best spot to be admired.”

Pidge giggled. “He and Matt flirt all the time. I don’t know whether it’s cute or sickening.”

Keith raised his eyebrow at the new information. “He flirts with Matt? Does Matt like him?”

Pidge started to shrug, then winced. “I don’t think so? I’m not sure if Matt likes guys like that or not. I think he just likes the banter.”

“Then it’s cute,” Keith said, taking Pidge’s cup so she could carefully zip the jacket back up. “Lance is an equal opportunity flirt, but he won’t pursue somebody who isn’t interested.”

“How does he know Matt isn’t interested?” Pidge asked, eyebrow raised as she accepted her cup back. 

“That’s part of Lance’s particular skill set,” Keith replied, unzipping the backpack to pull out the helmet. He handed it to Pidge, taking the cup and putting it in the cupholder as she carefully maneuvered the helmet onto her head. “He _always_ knows if somebody is interested in him or not.”

“Does it have to do with being a mage?” Pidge asked, allowing Keith to help her slide back onto the back of the motorcycle.

“A water mage,” Keith nodded, sliding the key into the ignition and kicking the stand up. “Water, the moon, emotions, intuition...all his purview.”

“A man of many talents,” Pidge said as Keith started the bike, backing it out of the space before turning it out of the parking lot towards the road.

“You have no idea!” Keith called over his shoulder, before turning into traffic to steer them back.

The ride was too short, in Keith’s opinion. Now that he had affirmed that Pidge _did_ still want to date him, Keith felt like he was allowed to enjoy the way her arms wrapped around his waist, fingers clutching his shirt and abdomen as she leaned against him, snugged against his back with her knees bracketing his thighs. 

It was only a few minutes later he was turning back into The Daily Grind’s parking lot, sliding between Pidge’s Honda Civic and Lance’s Jeep Wrangler, whose top was on in deference to the sun, but the unzipped windows to allow the breeze to filter through it. He caught sight of Lance, lounging beside one of the little patio tables, stretched out in the shade with a drink at his elbow as he smiled at the girls who giggled on their way in as they stole glances at him.

Dismounting from the bike, Keith turned to see Pidge unsteadily unsnapping the helmet, fumbling it a bit as her hands shook. Frowning, Keith reached out, tugging it gently off of her head and watching as her hair tumbled around her face. There was tension in her frame as she took short breaths, and Keith could smell the arcid tang of the pain she was in wafting off of her. 

“Shit,” he cursed shortly, studying the way her lips pressed together and the tension around her eyes. “You should have said something, Pidge.”

“It’s not that bad,” Pidge grunted, but nearly fell off the side of the bike as she tried to lift her leg to swing it over the saddle, gasping as the motion twisted her ribs. “I’m fine.”

Lance, who was already standing and heading their way, hurried over.

“Don’t lie to me,” Keith chided, helping her straighten and unzip the jacket. His nose wrinkled as the scent of her pain hit him full-force.

“Keep your sniffer to yourself,” Pidge retorted, standing stiffly as Keith nudged the jacket off of her shoulders.

“I tell him that all the time,” Lance chuckled as he reached them. “How are you guys doing?”

“Fine,” Keith grunted, trying not to react to Pidge’s pain. “She’s hurting.”

“Yeah?” Lance blinked slowly, turning to regard Pidge with a raised eyebrow. “I imagine so, getting on a motorcycle with bruised ribs, and dealing with a concussion. How did those vibrations feel?”

“Don’t judge me,” Pidge huffed. “A cute guy asked me to get on his motorcycle. I’d never been on a motorcycle.”

Lance’s lips twitched before he gave in and laughed. “Okay, yeah, I’d totally have done the same thing.”

 _“Thank you.”_ Pidge sounded pleased.

“I’d have given you a ride after your ribs healed, too,” Keith scolded. “It wasn’t like a one-time deal.”

“What’s your point?” Pidge whined, then sighed as the breeze hit her newly exposed skin. 

“His point is he doesn’t like you're hurting,” Lance spoke up, interrupting before Keith could do more than open his mouth. “Luckily, you’ve got a _me_ handy.”

“Huh?” Pidge blinked up at him, frowning. “I’ve got a— _ohhh_ ! You _did_ heal my hand last week!” she exclaimed, eyes widening in realization. 

“Figured that out, huh?” Lance grinned. 

“I was showing Matt the burn on my hand last—” Pidge stopped short. “You know, when. But, um, there wasn’t one. We were actually arguing about it, when, you know, everything happened,” she finished, shifting her weight uncomfortably. 

Keith frowned as she swallowed and the sour scent of _stress_ began to emanate.

“Oh?” Lance reached out, grasping her fingers and lifting them to examine the back of her hand. “There wasn’t still a burn there, was there?”

“Other hand, but no,” Pidge replied, automatically lifting the hand to show him the unblemished back. “How did you do it?”

“Water mage.” Lance shrugged, then smirked when Pidge’s eyes narrowed. “I can manipulate water, to an extent.”

“...You’re a water bender?” Pidge asked dubiously, and Keith sniggered. 

“Shut it, you,” Lance said mildly, not even glancing at his friend.

“I’ve got _stories,_ ” Keith told Pidge gleefully.

“From Veronica!” Lance hissed, narrowing his eyes. “They aren’t even _your_ stories, they’re just things my sister has told you!”

“And they’re great,” Keith said happily.

“Hmph.” Lance turned up his nose at Keith, shifting his attention back to Pidge and ignoring the other man’s eye roll. “I can’t do anything big,” he explained, “but I can do little things. Cool the skin down, direct swelling away and help redistribute the fluids in the body, or force you to expel them.”

“So you just cooled the burn and eased the swelling?” Pidge made a thoughtful noise. “That’s still handy.”

“Yeah, I’ve got all kinds of party tricks,” Lance murmured, reaching up and cupping her face, tipping her chin up slightly to look at her. 

Lance’s hands were large compared to Pidge’s head, and Keith watched as his long fingers curled around her nape, rubbing the muscles there as his thumbs brushed over her temples. Pidge’s eyes went from curious to glazed as she relaxed, and Keith knew Lance was working his magic.

“That’s amazing,” Pidge groaned, allowing her head to tip back and surrendering the weight of it to Lance’s hands. 

“It’s not permanent,” Lance warned, massaging her scalp for a moment before encouraging her neck to straighten. “It’s like… really effective Motrin. I am reducing swelling, but if you knock yourself around more, your body _will_ respond.”

“It feels great anyways,” Pidge replied feverently.

“Endorphins,” Lance grinned. “The sudden lack of pain can be a powerful thing. Can I touch your ribs?”

Pidge lifted her arms without hesitating, and Keith watched Lance shift around, placing himself between Pidge and the parking lot, with his Jeep and Keith’s bike bracketing her on either side. Keith, standing behind her, blocked anyone’s view from that direction and effectively boxed her in.

“Skin-to-skin is best,” Lance said apologetically. “Can you lift your shirt up a bit? Not enough to see your bra, but I do need to get to your ribs.”

Pidge shifted, fingers toying with the hem of her oversized work shirt, before nodding and folding it up, wincing as the movement pulled muscles that were already aching. Keith frowned at the mottled bruises and abrasions decorating pale skin. 

Her ribs didn’t seem overly swollen, but his training was all with first aid. He could stabilize and provide emergency treatment, but he didn’t have experience with the long-term effects of an injury. Lance certainly seemed upset enough, pinning Pidge with a stare and raising his eyebrow. 

“Why did you come into work?” He asked pointedly, even as his hands settled gently along the curve of her waist, thumbs brushing the lower curve of her rib. Despite the injuries littering her skin and Lance’s purely professional touch, Keith found himself fascinated by the contrast of Lance’s hands, with their long, slender fingers and appearing even more tan against Pidge’s fair skin. Deftly, he avoided touching the injuries directly, brushing the outside edges as his fingers traced over her ribs and up her spine.

“In the car the other night, you said the Alpha stepped on you,” Lance murmured, frowning at her, but raising his hand to point at her chest. “Here?”

Pidge shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

Lance leaned back, frown deepening as he shook his head. “As cute as you are, that’s just one place I cannot go. Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” Pidge sounded relieved as she dropped her shirt, “I feel tons better, really. I could probably even go to class.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Lance said. “I _know_ Luis gave you a doctor’s note to take it easy for a few days. Use them.”

Pidge shuffled a bit, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing her car key, clicking the button on the fob absently. “I just...want to go back to normal.”

Keith watched Lance’s stern countenance soften as he reached out, cupping Pidge’s cheek the same way Keith himself had earlier. “And it will, eventually. But you’ve got to give it time.”

Keith shifted, feeling oddly like he was intruding on something private, but not knowing quite what it was, or what to do.

“Besides,” Lance added, straightening and throwing Keith a wink over Pidge’s shoulder, “does ‘ _normal_ ’ usually include cute guys, motorcycles and books on magic?”

Pidge snorted, and the moment was broken. “Yeah, no. Though I don’t have any books on magic that aren’t actually fantasy.”

“It just so happens I do,” Lance said, hopping up on the wheel of the Jeep to lean into the backseat and pull out a canvas tote. “Mom asked me to give them to you, so you could start reading for your lesson on Wednesday. But first, go home and get some rest, Pidge. I was able to bring the swelling down, but the endorphins aren’t going to last forever, and you’ll want something in your system before they wear off.”

“What about, um, the smell?” Pidge asked, turning to glance at Keith as she chewed on her lower lip. “Will that upset Matt?”

Keith blinked. “It...might,” he admitted, feeling foolish for not having thought of it. “Especially if he smells Lance’s scent on you, um, in those areas. And directly on your skin.”

“I can see how that might be an issue,” Pidge said, frowning. “How likely is he to smell you guys on me? Like, can he from across the room, or will he only smell it if he hugs me? What if I switch shirts?”

“Maybe not from across the room, but that depends on how many other scents are around,” Keith said. “He’ll definitely smell it if he gets within a few feet of you, but my scent will be over Lance’s, so he probably wouldn’t know Lance had his hands, you know...there.”

 _Under your shirt,_ but Keith knows better than to say that aloud. 

Pidge’s brow furrowed as she stepped back, digging into her pocket and pulling out a small keyring. Holding up a finger in the universal ‘ _wait_ ’ gesture, she unlocked the door, sliding into the seat and turning on the car. 

One finger rolled the windows down to expel hot air and cranking up the air conditioner to cool the interior as she leaned over and pulled something out of her glove compartment. Lance handed her the sack of books, and Pidge placed it on the passenger seat before sliding out of the car and holding up a small, travel container of baby wipes.

“I keep these in the car in case I spill something,” she explained. “I’ll just wipe down with some of those before I go into the house—maybe that will dilute things enough to not aggravate him?”

Keith kept his face carefully blank, trying not to frown at the thought of Pidge wiping off _his_ scent from her skin, knowing it was the best solution.

“That sounds like a solid plan,” Lance agreed, nodding genially even as his gaze slid to Keith. “Go home, Pidge, seriously.”

“I think I will.” Pidge sighed, accepting the now-empty tumbler that Keith handed her from his cup holder. “Oh, that reminds me.”

Digging in her pocket, Pidge pulled out a paper napkin and handed it to Keith.

“I’m not going to give you the hat unless you need it—which, by the way, we didn’t talk about that,” Pidge explained, “but I did rub the napkin along the brim of it. Hopefully that will give you some of the scent?” 

Keith made a considering noise, his expression clearing as he lifted the napkin to his nose, unfolding it to take a whiff. “This works. Thanks.”

“No problem, I hope it helps,” Pidge added as she climbed into the car. “Text me and we’ll arrange the particulars for our date, okay?”

“Will do,” Keith said, smiling slightly. “Now get home and get some rest.”

“Yes mom,” Pidge snarked, waiting for Keith and Lance to take a step back before putting the car in reverse and backing out of the space. Keith waited until she’d left the lot before turning to face Lance’s expectant gaze.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Allura was in the kids area, humming as she wiped down the small tables they had set up for children to read at—or to do arts and crafts at, as today’s case may be. Hunk’s choice of stories had been excellent, as usual, and Allura was openly impressed at the ingenuity of her young audience as they described, drew and created their own robots. 

Many of the children had asked if there were more stories about the boy with the blue lion, who went on fantastic adventures to save the universe, or wanted to know if there were _other_ robots that could turn into animals. Was there a princess? Every good story had a princess!

Allura picked up the stack of crafts that hadn’t gone home, carefully placing them in a bin and carting them to the front of the store. The bestseller display was, of course, front and center, but a secondary display behind the counter was Allura’s personal favorite. 

The week’s book was proudly displayed on a shelf behind the counter, with foil letters and shiny cut out stars proclaiming it to be the _Star of the Week_. Smaller floating shelves were positioned around it, and Allura hummed as she set up small silver paper-roll robots upon them, carefully arranging them so the loose glitter, multitudes of colorful pipe cleaners, and still-damp glue didn’t make quite such a mess.

She was in the process of carefully taping up a picture of a princess with a blue robot lion when the door to the shop opened. A tingling wash over her senses alerted her to her customers less-than-human composition, and Allura turned to watch a tall, blonde man enter the store. 

“Hello, welcome to Altea Books!” She called, offering him a smile when he turned sharp eyes on her. “Can I help you find anything?”

He was clean-cut and well dressed, his dark purple button down emphasizing the litheness of his figure and making already-light hair seem even more blonde as it brushed his shoulders. Despite wearing denim pants, and having his sleeves casually rolled up to expose his forearms, nothing about the man appeared thoughtless. Everything, Allura noted, seemed calculated for maximum effect. 

“Yes,” he said smoothly, offering her a smile as he strolled up to the counter. His shoulders were relaxed, and he glanced around as if taking in the sights of the store, eyes lingering on the children’s display and the books stacked off to the side to be returned before offering her an easy smile. “I’m looking for Allura Altea? My name is Lotor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Don’t judge me,” Pidge huffed. “A cute guy asked me to get on his motorcycle. I’d never been on a motorcycle.”_
> 
> ^That's probably my favorite line.^
> 
> Thank you, as always, to Kidge-Kat and Spn_girl02, who listened to me whining and beat'd for me to make sure I didn't screw up too horribly. Also, I am probably grossly handwaving concussions and bruised ribs, however mild they may be.


	12. In Abeyance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt is working on adjusting to his new normal, and Keith, Shiro and Ryou talk to their Uncle about recent events.

Matt leaned into his sister’s room to find her lounging in her large purple bean bag, bare feet propped on a small tower of the star-shaped throw pillows that seemed to sporadically multiply on her bed. It was her usual lounging position, but instead of her laptop, a large book was propped in her lap. 

She glanced up at him as he poked his head around the door, and smiled at him. “Hey Matt, what’s up?” She asked loudly, eyeing him. 

Matt offered her a wan smile, unwilling to cop to how spectacularly shitty he was still feeling. His noise-cancelling headphones blocked most of the extra sounds, but every other sense still felt like it was in overdrive.The scent of soda was almost sickeningly sweet, and Matt had nearly gagged when he’d been stuck cleaning up the mess he’d made when suddenly too sharp fingernails had punctured the can when a deliveryman ringing the doorbell had nearly scared him out of his skin.

“No need to yell,” he winced, “I can still hear you just fine.”

“Even with those things on?” Pidge asked in bemusement. “Where are your glasses?”

Matt shrugged, though he was secretly pleased with at least  _ this _ aspect of his new life. “Don’t need them.”

“What?” Pidge pushed herself upright, bare feet knocking over her makeshift footstool as she did so. “Since when?”

“Since this morning,” Matt said. “Not going to lie, that was kind of great.”

“That  _ is _ pretty cool,” Pidge admitted. “What are you doing now?”

“Hiding from mom,” Matt replied, knowing that Colleen was still downstairs in the kitchen. She was well-meaning, but her continual anxiety was making  _ him _ anxious in response. It was a vicious, never ending cycle of motherly concern. “Can I chill with you for a while?”

“Sure.” Pidge looked around, lips pusing. “Go grab your chair.”

Matt nodded, ducking out of his sister’s room and heading down the hall to his childhood bedroom, where his own orange bean bag chair sat in the middle of the floor. Despite being his childhood bedroom, the space was absolutely foreign to his new senses, containing nothing of him and only vague traces of his sister, but more of his parents where they sat at the desk or touched the filing cabinet.

He’d taken the bedroom set with him when he’d finally got his own apartment, and his parents had relocated their office from the downstairs den into the space. They’d bought a futon for when guests stayed over, and that was what he had been sleeping on. The filing cabinet dragged over to act as a makeshift nightstand. His dad had gone to his apartment after he’d been released from the hospital to grab some necessities; they weren’t sure how long he would be staying here, so he’d grabbed some clothes, his laptop, some books, and his old, worn, but well-loved bean bag as well. 

The relic from his childhood now looked startlingly out of place in what had once been his room as Matt snagged it, wrinkling his nose a bit at the smell, glad that his sister’s nose wouldn’t pick up the odors clinging to it. Snagging his laptop with his other hand, he toted the items back down the hall to Pidge’s room. 

Pidge glanced up when he pressed his seat up against hers, but didn’t otherwise comment outside of kicking a few of her throw pillows in front of him for him to prop his feet up on. “What are you reading?” Matt asked, unable to resist the urge to lean over, nostrils flaring as he trained his eyes on the book. 

Coffee grounds permeated her scent, which Matt had been able to smell even before his… accident. Matt inhaled, smelling his sisters shampoo and body wash, deodorant and the scent of the laundry detergent his mother preferred. Layered over that was the faint scent of clean sweat, and the faint tinge of the various people that his sister must have come into contact with during the day. Also—

“Why do you smell like baby powder?” Matt asked, leaning down to rub his cheek absently over her shoulder. When that didn’t feel like enough, he leaned further, the top of his head brushing against her face as his arm slid along hers. His headphones were kind of bothersome, but not enough to stop him, despite Pidge’s surprised squeak.

“Uh, Matt?”

“Hm?” Better, Matt decided, brushing his nose over her shoulder, already soothed. Really though, he wanted to rub his face along her neck—it would last longer there, and their scents would mingle and make sure anyone who came nearby knew they were family, and Pidge belonged to  _ him _ —

Matt jerked back upright, feeling his face flush as he realized what he was doing. “Sorry!”

“It’s okay.” Pidge smiled at him, but the expression was a little uncomfortable. “Keith said wolves are really tactile, and want their family to smell like them.”

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Matt grumbled, still embarrassed. Then he blinked. “Wait,  _ Keith  _ said? When did you see Keith?”

“Oh. Um, he came to see me today at work,” Pidge mumbled, pink tinging her cheeks as she shoved her hair behind her ear as she stared furiously at her book.

“But you don’t smell like…” Matt paused, abruptly leaning over to sniff at her forearms.

“Okay! We’re officially being weird now!” Pidge yelped, dropping the book and leaning away from him.

“I don’t smell him?” Matt asked, frustrated at missing the other wolf’s scent. 

If Pidge had handed him a drink or touched him, the scent  _ should _ have been on her arms. There was something  _ faintly _ wolf-ish nearby (and how he knew that was absolutely baffling—why would he know what another wolf smelled like?), but if it was on her, it wasn’t on her arms, which smelled only like soap and family. 

Pidge had scrubbed her arms, Matt thought, starting to sit up. 

The baby powder smell hit him again, and he paused; the scent was faint, probably obscured by the shirt she was wearing, which smelled only of laundry detergent. If his sister had been wearing it all day, it would have smelt like the people she’d been around. 

She’d changed shirts, and scrubbed her arms, and then used something with baby powder in it to further cover the other wolf’s scent;the thought of Keith touching  _ his _ sister’s arms or shoulders—her back, maybe?—had immediately annoyed him, and Matt could feel a growl brewing in the back of his throat. 

“Pidge, why do you smell like baby powder?” Matt asked, reminding himself that he had no right to be as unreasonably angry about something as silly as his sister smelling like baby powder, or why. “Did you go to class today?”

“No,” Pidge admitted, shifting uncomfortably. “I went to work, but… I wasn’t feeling well. Keith and I went to the park down the road to chat, but my ribs—and head—were really sore afterwards. So Lance insisted I come home. Said Luis gave me a doctor’s excuse for a reason.”

“Well, I’m not going to argue that,” he said wryly. “But where does Lance come into this?”

“He came by the shop to give me some books to start reading before Wednesday.” Pidge poked the book in her lap to illustrate. “Did you know there’s, like, heaps of different magic users?”

“Okay, but you still haven’t told me why you changed your shirt? And scrubbed your arms?” Matt asked, confused.

“Keith mentioned that wolves are territorial,” Pidge explained, “and that until things...calm down for you, me smelling like another Pack might upset you.”

Matt made a noise in the back of his throat. “...That’s a valid concern,” he admitted quietly. “I mean, I’d like to think it wouldn’t but… my control isn’t very good.”

“It’s been three days,” Pidge admonished quietly. “Give yourself some time.”

“It’s frustrating.” The headache behind his eyes throbbed uncomfortably, and Matt slouched down in his own bean bag chair, letting it flop back onto the pile of fabric, grateful that his sister didn’t have his nose—she’d never have let his chair into her room if she could really smell it. “My head hurts.”

“Did you take some Tylenol?” Pidge asked cautiously. 

“Can’t,” Matt grunted, closing his eyes. “I metabolize it too fast for it to do any good, now. I have some stuff Dr. Luis gave me, but…” he shrugged.

Pidge made a vague, understanding noise.

“Tell me about what you’re reading,” Matt suggested.

“Well, did you know everyone has two elements in them?” Pidge asked. 

“We’ve got a lot more than that,” Matt quipped. 

“I know, right?” Pidge sniggered. “But they don’t mean, like, the periodic table, they mean like earth, air, fire and water.”

Matt cracked his eye open. “Are we Captain Planet, or the Avatar?”

Pidge laughed outright, and Matt felt his own lips tugging up in response. “It gets better,” she promised. “And apparently this stuff is important for shifters too, so listen up.”

A finger poked him lightly in the ribs. “Bossy,” Matt whined, wiggling away from the prodding finger. 

“So each person has two elements—did you know one of them actually corresponds to your  _ astrological sign? _ That is weird as fuck,” Pidge muttered, half to herself. Matt only hummed, hearing the note of happiness in her voice underneath the grumbling. “So I’m an Air type, because I was born in February. How do you think it works for preemies? Like, is your type based off of when you’re born, or when you were  _ supposed _ to be born? Because if I’d been born in April like I was supposed to be, then I would be a Fire type.”

“Impatient even before you were born,” Matt mumbled, sinking into a comfortable lethargy as he let his sister’s voice wash over him. 

“Maybe I am a Fire type,” Pidge said, frowning down at the book. “It says there’s usually meditation and stuff involved to divine the secondary type...sub-type, or whatever. But if you’re a magic user, your secondary can be your primary? Maybe that’s just mages, because it doesn’t seem like it would be a big deal for somebody who doesn’t play with elements or whatever. Like witches. I wonder if a Witch is different from a Wizard.”

“You’re totally Toph,” Matt interjected sleepily.

“Toph was a badass, don’t knock The Blind Bandit,” Pidge sniffed. 

“M’not,” Matt yawned, “Toph was cool. Why do witches not play with elements?”

“I mean, it kind of seems like they do? A little?” Matt could hear the frown in Pidge’s voice as she puzzled through the new information. “Really, the book keeps going on and  _ on  _ about balance… I guess I should figure out why that’s so important, first.”

“You’ve been skipping around,” Matt observed, turning his head a little to catch more of Pidge’s scent. It was spicy and sweet, with the undertones of something that tickled his nose, and notes of his own scent clinging to it. 

“A little,” Pidge admitted easily. “I was kind of flipping through, just to see what all was in here. Like, where’s the good stuff? But this seems to be less ‘eye of newt’ and more ‘clear your mind.’”

“Darn,” Matt mumbled, sinking into his seat and letting Pidge’s chatter wash over him.

Within moments, he was asleep.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Shiro glanced up from his pasta as the front door slammed. There was a faint rustling as Keith toed off his shoes and hung up his things, and a clink of metal as his keys were hung up on the rack near the door. 

“Hey,” Shiro called from where he was leaning against the counter, “dinner is on the stove!”

“Great,” Keith said distractedly, emerging from the front hall and making a beeline towards him. “There was a wolf at Pidge’s workplace today.”

“What?” Shiro frowned, taken aback by the sudden drop of information. “How do you know that?”

“They left their hat there,” Keith replied, frowning as he pulled a bowl down from the cupboard and started loading it with pasta from the pot. “I still can’t decide if it was deliberate or not.”

“It’s a hell of a coincidence,” Shiro mumbled, watching as Keith opened the silverware drawer, frowned at the empty slots, and turned instead to the dishwasher. “Did you get the hat?”

“Pidge wouldn’t give it to me,” Keith grunted, retrieving a fork from the machine and closing the door. “But I did get this.” Keith leaned over, pulling a clear ziplock baggie from his pocket and held it out towards Shiro, who placed his own bowl on the counter as he reached for it.

“A...napkin?” Shiro asked in bemusement, but was already breaking the seal on the bag and holding it up to his nose. The scent was faint, but more than enough to have a growl rumbling in his throat, gums itching as his fangs rippled below the surface and the world sharpening in a way that told him his eyes were probably more red than brown. 

“Well, hello,” Keith said, brow cocked as he speared a few pieces of penne on his fork. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was annoyed too, but at least I didn’t  _ drop fang _ —”

_ “Adam,” _ Shiro hissed, completely ignoring Keith’s rambling.

“Oh, so you  _ do _ know him then,” Keith mused, stuffing a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

“He’s the new guy at work,” Shiro said, closing his eyes as he deliberately pushed the bag away, centering himself. When he opened his eyes, the world had returned to normal saturation, and the baggie had disappeared back into Keith’s pocket. 

“The new guy,” Keith muttered as he handed Shiro his bowl back. His grey-violet eyes lit with dawning comprehension. “The new  _ Alpha? _ ”

Shiro only grunted in response as he jabbed at his dinner. “Yeah,” he said at last, once he was sure he was under control. “That’s him.”

Keith scowled at his mostly-empty bowl. “So, the new, packless Alpha that showed up at your workplace, right before your boss’ son gets bitten by an Alpha, and then the Alpha who may have done it shows up to buy coffee from his daughter on Monday.”

“Seems pretty suspicious when you put it that way,” Shiro said dryly, then snorted. “And he wonders why I don’t like him.”

“Does he?” Keith asked, eyebrow cocked.

Shiro shrugged. “I have no idea what he actually wonders. He shows up, checks his email and mutters curses at the various delivery companies, and then stomps off to do whatever it is he does.”

“But he hasn’t messed with you at all? Outside of just...being around?” Keith asked.

“To be fair, it’s only been two weeks—he hasn’t had much opportunity,” Shiro replied. “But tomorrow I’ll see him at the department meeting, so...we’ll see how he acts then, I guess.”

“Still no luck in figuring out what he’s doing here?” Keith asked, watching as Shiro set his empty bowl in the sink.

“Assistant project manager for corporate and retail divisions.” Shiro shrugged, glancing at the clock and shoving off the counter. Making a “follow me” gesture, he moved through the kitchen towards the den that doubled as an in-home office (albeit a pretty relaxed one). “Transfer from a different branch, but otherwise I’m not sure; there’s only enough overlap between our sections to drive me nuts.”

“Which he has been doing, splendidly, without even trying,” Ryou commented dryly as he scowled down at the laptop screen. He was slouched on the end of the couch they had in there, bare feet propped up on the coffee table and bowl of pasta on the end table at his elbow.

The room was fairly clean, but it was apparent that there hadn’t been any official “guests” in a while, as evidenced by the clutter on the desk and the thin layer of dust coating unused surfaces. To the right, a couch was pushed against the inside wall, with matching chairs flanking it and coffee table centered between them. 

The desk was on the far wall, out of direct sunlight, collecting clutter and coffee mugs, with a filing cabinet between it and the wall, and a well-stocked mini-fridge humming quietly on the other side. To Keith’s left, under the large picture window in the front of the house, stood a square table with a chair on either side. 

It was a room Kolivan had insisted they have, if they could afford it (and between the well-invested insurance policies and the inheritance they’d received from their late parents and grandparents, they could); an official den, where the Alpha of the could greet guests seeking entry to the territory and hold meetings, and where the Pack could help field the same without inviting any potential threats further into their home than necessary. 

Their Uncle’s was much the same, if a little more stately and a little less...dusty. Still, he had a  _ housekeeper _ , something three bachelors living alone didn’t lend much weight to. 

“You ready to give him a call?” Shiro asked, plopping down next to his brother.

“Yeah—don’t sit in my dinner!” Ryou yelped as Keith leaned against the end table.

“Then  _ eat it, _ ” Keith groused, shoving the bowl out of the way so he could sit down. “Or move over so I can sit.”

“Fine, fine...budge up, Takashi,” Ryou grumbled, nudging Shiro with his shoulder. 

“Let’s just move it to the desk,” Shiro suggested. “Or the table? That way we can take notes if we need to.”

“And Keith can get his ass out of my meal,” Ryou muttered as Shiro stood and took the laptop from him. Keith regarded him levelly, then deliberately wiggled his butt on the end table, edging closer to Ryou’s bowl. 

Ryou growled. Satisfied, Keith smirked and stood up, following Shiro to the computer, snagging one of the chairs from the front table on the way. Shiro paused in the process of hooking the laptop up to the computer monitor.

“Phone or video call?” He asked, glancing as the two Betas. 

Keith shrugged, but Ryou shook his head and replied, “Video call.”

“Alright.” A few more taps on the keyboard and Shiro had transferred the screen to the computer monitor, adjusting the camera as he pulled up the video calling program on the screen. Keith pulled out his phone, shooting his uncle a quick text to let him know they were calling soon.

Ryou dragged over a chair, angling it to sit on Shiro’s right as Keith positioned himself on the left. He was barely seated when Shiro tapped the ‘call’ button, and Keith hardly had time to straighten up before his uncle’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hello, boys,” Kolivan said, dark eyes crinkling at the corners as his lips tilted slightly in greeting.

“Alpha,” they all automatically replied, heads tilting fractionally to expose their neck.

“How are you doing?” Kolivan asked, nodding his acknowledgement of the gesture. “Keith, your mother was telling me you had a project about sustainable building solutions coming up, how is that going?”

“Good,” Keith replied, “it’s a small group project, and we’re exploring how to recycle discarded supplies from other builds and reshape them to suit our needs. We did pretty well on the report, but the presentation was a bit flat.”

“Did they make you read again?” Kolivan asked, eyebrow lifting.

“No.” It had been decided last time that Keith lacked “personality” as a public speaker. “The person who was putting the slides together missed a few—I don’t know how, honestly—so we had to kind of ad-lib that piece. Professor noticed, and docked us for it. Still got a B, though.”

“That’s good, then.” Kolivan replied. “What else is going on?”

“The bite victim, Matthew Holt, has recovered well and was discharged from the hospital yesterday morning,” Shiro began. “I spent some time with his parents, and gave them some information on what to expect in the next few weeks.”

“This is your coworker's son, yes?” Kolivan asked, glancing down at something in front of him before looking back up. 

“Yes,” Shiro nodded. “And his daughter is a witch.

Kolivan blinked, the only indication of his surprise as he looked back down—probably at his notes, Keith realized, and tried not to snicker. “That’s not in the police report.”

“It’s not?” Ryou pursed his lips, then pushed back, rising from the chair and leaving the room.

“What kind of witch is she?” Kolivan asked.

Shiro turned to Keith, eyebrow raised. Keith blinked in surprise, eyebrow raising as he reflexively straightened from his slouch. At Shiro’s nod, he cleared his throat. “Um, we don’t know yet. She has some materials from the Espinosa Coven, but her first lesson isn’t until Wednesday.”

“She has materials?” Kolivan repeated. “Are you saying Estella turned over some of her  _ books? _ ”

“I mean, they’re probably copies,” Keith shrugged, as Ryou reappeared with a manila folder. “But apparently Pidge’s curiosity is pretty notorious. Lance said that Hunk warned him if he didn’t give her something to read, then his mom would probably spend the whole time having to explain—in exhaustive detail—the theory of magic.”

“Pidge?” Kolivan’s eyebrow quirked in silent question.

“Katie,” Keith corrected. “Pidge is a nickname.”

“Katherine Holt,” Ryou spoke up, eyes skimming over a paper. “It was on her hospital admittance paperwork,” he added when Shiro and Keith both turned to look at him.

“Apparently only  _ friends _ get to call her Pidge,” Shiro added, smirking at Keith slyly.

Keith felt the tips of his ears burning, but refused to rise to the bait.

“And Keith is a friend?” His uncle asked, sounding only vaguely interested.

Keith scowled. He was familiar enough with his uncle’s and Shiro’s shared sense of deadpan humor to know that his birth Alpha was well more than vaguely interested.

“Your mother didn’t mention you’d made any new friends recently, Keith,” Kolivan continued with studied nonchalance. 

“We’re friends,” Keith replied. “Lance, Hunk and I all know her.”

“How long have you known her?” Kolivan asked. 

“About a month; I met her when I was taking Lance’s books to him over at the TAM Campus,” Keith replied, ignoring the way his uncle’s brow furrowed faintly at Lance’s name. “And then Lance and I stopped in for coffee where she works.”

“And how did you know she was a witch?” Kolivan asked.

“She apparently smelled weird,” Shiro deadpanned. 

Kolivan sighed audibly, then speared Keith with a look. “You always did have a way with words.”

“I’m very erudite,” Keith said dryly. Shiro snorted. “Regardless, Lance identified her as having a spark, but we determined that she wasn’t really aware of it. She didn’t respond at all to him signalling her, and was surprised when he zapped her.”

“Interesting,” Kolivan leaned back in his seat. He glanced at Shiro. “Have you met her?”   
  
“I’ve met the entire family at one point or another,” Shiro shrugged. “Though I hadn’t seen Katie for a few years, I think. Matt is around the building a bit—and now I guess I know where he gets all of the coffee he brings Sam—but other than that, we only just met her when she and Matt came to the dojo.” 

Kolivan’s eyebrows lifted. “They just came in?”

“Keith gave her a free lesson,” Ryou chimed in cheerfully.

_ “Really.” _ Kolivan’s gaze sharpened as he regarded Keith. Keith had a few cards to give out for free lessons, but wasn’t one to offer them often. Them being in his wallet had turned into something of a joke, actually.

Keith refused to blush.

“Keith and Katie are going on a  _ date, _ ” Ryou added with relish.

Kolivan looked downright gleeful (which meant that his lips quirked upwards incrementally). “Your mother hadn’t mentioned it to me.”

“I hadn’t mentioned it to  _ her, _ ” Keith finally blurted out, exasperated. Didn’t these people have anything better to do than tease him? “There were other, more important, things happening!”

_ “Keith’s going on a date?” _ Ezor’s head appeared in the background, long ponytail glinting as she leaned into the office. 

Keith sighed. “Yes.”

“Since when?” Ezor demanded, striding into the office and leaning over her uncle’s shoulder irreverently. “What does Lance think?”

“Lance is  _ perfectly fine with—” _ Keith paused, then huffed out a sigh. “Why do you care, anyway?”

“Um, because it’s interesting?” Ezor shrugged. “I mean, you and Lance  _ say _ ‘open relationship,’ but I’ve only seen you date...one person? Maybe?”

“Why is this relevant?” Keith snapped, irritated. “Don’t we have actual  _ business _ to discuss, or did I get pulled into this just to get roasted?”

“Why can’t we do both?” Ezor asked, head tilting curiously, but Kolivan was already nodding. 

“As much fun as it might be to tease Keith, this  _ is _ a meeting,” Kolivan said, ignoring Keith’s scowl to shoot his niece a look. “And while I don’t mind you being in the house, Ezor, this is official police business. Please close the door on your way out.”

“Fine,” Ezor huffed, before turning back to the camera and pointing a finger at Keith. “But next time I see you, you’re gonna spill your guts.”

“Keep dreaming!” Keith called after her, a moue twisting his lips as she casually flipped her middle finger over her shoulder without even glancing back. The door to Kolivan’s home office closed with a soft  _ click _ .  __

“Now, where were we?” Kolivan asked idly, frowning thoughtfully down at the paper in front of him. “Mm… the sister being a witch. No,” he continued, forestalling Keith’s frown. “This isn’t a continuation of the previous discussion. Ryou, it’s not reported here. Is that because she’s new?”

“Partially,” Ryou nodded. “She  _ just _ learned about her talent: Estella hasn’t even identified what type of magic user she is. And the person who did the report—looks like Officer Rodriguez—just didn’t include it. He probably didn’t know.”

Kolivan frowned down at the paper. “And the parents? Any other family nearby? Is there a history of magic in the family, or is Miss Holt an outlier?”

“We don’t know.” Shiro shrugged. “I’ve worked with Sam for a few years now, but I don’t think he has any family in the area.”

“Hm.” Kolivan sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What have the labs gotten, Ryou? The initial report wasn’t promising.”

“It was also rushed,” Ryou pointed out. “Sarge pulled in the lab guys on the weekend to get those initial tests started.”

“I’m aware of that, also.” Kolivan sighed. “I want to have a meeting here in Houston regarding this issue, as soon as possible. Ryou, I’ll be calling your Chief to discuss the details, but offhand, when are you available?”

“Me?” Ryou blinked, straightening in surprise before trading a look with his twin. 

“Yes.” Kolivan nodded. “This is a police matter, as well as a Pack matter and a Community concern. Conveniently, you can fill all three roles; this isn’t the case with some territories.”

“How many reps will be there?” Shiro asked curiously. 

“Shane and Flores will be sending representatives from their Packs, and I’ve been speaking with Alpha Reyes up in Plano as well,” Kolivan said. “He’s reaching out to the other Packs in the Northern Territory to see if there were any attacks that didn’t get reported, or resulted in deaths instead of turnings.”

“So basically a meeting of the minds?” Shiro asked.

“Precisely,” Kolivan replied, nodding. “Alpha Reyes will also be reaching out to the local SRT, to see about getting a couple of officers down with case files so we can go over all of the evidence and see if there’s something we’ve missed.”

“But you guys have been looking this stuff over for months,” Keith protested. “What could you possibly have missed?”

“We don’t know,” Kolivan shrugged. “Sometimes the most innocuous things are what tie everything together, sometimes the only connection is the lack of connections. Which is, ironically, a connection. But the more people we have looking, the more likely we are to spot something. And the more quickly we get this outlier contained and off the streets, the better off we’ll all be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Pidge wasn't *actually* born in February, but I needed her to be an Air sign for my plot, so poor Colleen had the stress and worry that comes with a preemie baby. And poor Pidge had the stress or being born premature.
> 
> On that note, the bit about dual signs and balance that Pidge kind of skimmed over and dismissed? It way more important than she realizes. _Way_ more important, and in fact, permeates every aspect of their lives, down to influencing romantic relationships.


	13. Introduction to the Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt is generally unhappy with the state of things. So is Shiro, though for different reasons. And Pidge? Has _all_ the questions, and poor Estella is right in the line of fire. 
> 
> (Estella is not prepared.)

Matt sat in the waiting room with his mother, feeling unsettled and uncomfortable for any number of reasons. Colleen has insisted on coming with him, because even if she was a nurse  anesthetist  she still had a lot of medical knowledge, but also because she was his mother. Matt was both grateful for and resentful of her presence: her familiar mom-scent calmed him down in ways he couldn’t adequately describe, even with the constant scent of low-grade anxiety she exuded. And that, in turn, made everything just a bit easier to deal with, which was helpful because every sense was overloaded right now. 

The waiting room smelled like several other people (some of whom smelled vaguely wet, or like various animals or...dry? How was dry a  _ scent? _ ), with tinges of associated scents describing where they’d come from (someone had been eating too much fast food, or worked in a fast food joint), and overlaying all of that was the sharply astringent scent of hospital cleaners, made all the worse by his sensitive nose.

Matt sneezed as he inhaled more artificial lemon scent.

“Are you alright?” Colleen asked, head turning to look at him in concern from where she sat next to him, magazine largely forgotten in her lap.

Matt sighed. As much as having his mother here helped, it was also a pain in the ass. She was hovering in a way that was frankly  _ annoying _ , and it was also a blow to his pride that at twenty-four, his mommy was still accompanying him to the doctor. He was an adult, living on his own and everything: he did not need help getting to the doctor’s office.

His pounding head suggested otherwise. Matt gritted his teeth, gums itching vaguely as his teeth elongated slightly, then receded.

“Fine,” he mumbled. “Just smelling the cleaners.”

Colleen made an understanding noise in the back of her throat. “Those are sharp even without a new nose,” she agreed, turning back to her magazine and looking at the page in front of her. 

A few minutes later the side door opened, and Matt watched the nurse who had been at the hospital the other day escort a child and his mother out, sending them off with a wave before turning to him.

“Matthew Holt?” she called cheerfully. “How are you feeling today?” she asked as she led them back into the maze of examination rooms.

“I’m alright,” Matt mumbled since it seemed like the expected answer.

“Mmhm.” The nurse paused by a scale and eyed him critically. “Why don’t you take off your shoes and hop up on here for me?”

After his height and weight were recorded on the nurse’s chart, they were led into an examination room, and Matt found himself seated on the papered bench, blood pressure cuff around his arm and thermometer in his mouth as the nurse frowned at him.

“Temperature is ninety-nine point one, blood pressure is...one-fifteen over eighty-two,” Nurse O’Hara muttered.

“Isn’t that a little high?” Colleen frowned.

“A bit,” the nurse admitted easily. “But it’s actually expected at this point, and not unusual for weres.” She took the thermometer out of his mouth, expertly discharging the cover into the trash and picking up the otoscope. She flashed it in front of his eyes, then tapped her ears to get him to remove the headphones.

Matt winced as the plastic-covered foam unstuck from the side of his head—he felt like he’d been wearing the damn things for years, but it was  _ so much worse _ when he took them off. Instantly, sounds assaulted him: he could hear his mother’s and the nurse’s hearts beating, discordant  _ woosh-woosh _ noises, could hear them inhale and exhale (the nurse may have had a summer cold? She was a little nasally.), could hear them  _ swallow _ , could hear the computer humming quietly, and that was just in the room. Beyond that, he could hear other heartbeats, the quiet hum of voices in the lobby, a child crying over a shot and the low, steady murmur of a parent soothing them.

“Have you seen the Pack yet, Matt?” the nurse asked quietly, pulling his ear and looking through the lens into it.

“We saw Shiro after I was discharged,” Matt replied. “He gave us a few ‘what to expect’ type of books, and I have his phone number. He said call or text whenever.”

“Mm. And have you been?”

“No,” Matt admitted. “This all seems fairly in line with what he was saying to expect.”

“He’d probably still appreciate a check in,” the nurse replied. “Takashi is a bit of a worrier that way.”

“Hm.” Matt glanced at his mother, who was leaning forward trying to hear their quiet words. 

The nurse laughed softly as she replaced the light. 

“Your ear looks good,” she said, moving back towards Colleen and speaking slightly louder so the other woman could hear more easily. “The eardrum itself is a little enlarged for a human, but it’s what we expect to see with werecreatures, especially those with enhanced hearing. You may experience a bit of discomfort in the ear itself—similar to an ear infection, really—as the cartilage and bone shift a bit to accommodate it.” 

“Is that normal?” Colleen asked.

“Entirely,” the nurse replied easily, and Matt heard the sound of footsteps leaving a room down the hall and heading in their direction. “Bitten weres are fairly uncommon, but we have seen a few of them as well as read the reports on others, and this is in line with their progress, too.”

“Good morning,” Doctor Espinosa-McClain said cheerfully as he stepped inside, a manilla folder clutched in his hand. “How are we doing today?”

Matt cringed and pulled his headphones back on. The doctor winced. “Sorry.”

"We’re fine,” Nurse O’Hara answered softly, gesturing for Matt to take the headphones back off. “Matt’s hearing is still extremely sensitive though.”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor apologized to Matt, “you think I’d have remembered that and not just barged in here.”

“Truly,” the nurse said wryly. “Ronnie would skin you.”

“Perhaps literally,” the doctor muttered. “Veronica—my sister, if you recall—is a bitten were herself. I think she had her hands over her ears for weeks before things settled down and she was able to filter things out.”

“So this—” Collen gestured at the headphones in Matt’s lap “—is not uncommon.”

“Not by any stretch,” The doctor replied, taking the chart from his nurse and glancing at it. ”Eardrum is inflamed?”

“A bit,” the nurse murmured. “Nothing unusual, but take a look for yourself. I’ll take that other chart and get it put in, then.”

“Sure.” Doctor Espinosa-McClain handed her the folder as he rounded the table to pick up the otoscope again. Wita wave, the nurse quit the room. “I see what she means,” he hummed, pulling at Matt’s ear as he shined the light into it, “I bet if we could see the nerve behind it, that would be irritated as well.”

“But she said it was normal?” Colleen asked as the doctor straightened and Matt slipped his headphones back on.

“It is,” he nodded, patting Matt’s shoulder sympathetically before turning to a rack of boxed nitrile gloves on the wall. “And I know it’s uncomfortable and painful right now, but it will die down eventually. Your body is just having to make a lot of adjustments in a very short amount of time.”

“Shiro didn’t mention any of this,” Matt mumbled, “except to say that there would be some discomfort while I adjusted.”

“I need to look inside your mouth,” the doctor said, waiting for Matt to nod before gently pulling his lips back to examine his gums. “Any sensitivity here?”

“A bit,” Matt mumbled around the fingers. “Mostly itching.”

“Any tooth elongation?”

“Now and then,” Matt replied. “It comes and goes.”

“Alright,” the doctor straightened up, nodding. “It sounds normal, but if there’s any actual pain, inflammation or bleeding that starts, I want to hear about it, and we’ll get x-rays scheduled. Sometimes there’s nerve issues that arise, and I’d like to head that off before it gets to be a problem. Have you been in touch with Veronica?”

“What?” Matt asked, confused at the abrupt change of topic.

“Veronica, my sister,” the doctor repeated. “Shiro is a great man, and a good Alpha, but he was born a werewolf. He’s never had to deal with newly bitten weres before, and all of his knowledge is purely textbook.”

“So he’s not a good resource?” Colleen asked.

“I didn’t say that,” the doctor shook his head. “He’s a very good resource, because he has access to many other good resources, and he knows where to look to find what he needs. He’s also a good person — he very much cares for the welfare of those in his Pack. I’m saying he doesn’t have any personal experience with this situation, so his knowledge is all from what he’s read.”

“And your sister is a bitten werewolf,” Matt mused.

“Moreover, she’s one who has been in this same situation,” the doctor said, nodding. “She was attacked by a Rogue when she was fourteen.”

“I remember,” Matt said, nodding. “She showed me in the hospital. Are Rogue attacks common?” 

“No,” the doctor shook his head, taking a seat in front of the computer. “This Rogue that’s currently on the loose is the first since Veronica was bitten, and you’re the fourth victim in ten months.”

“He’s been loose that long?” Colleen asked sharply.

The doctor shrugged. “He, she...we’re not sure. And they’re something of an anomaly, because Rogues usually are predictable and operate in a small area: this one has been ranging all over Texas as far as I know.

“But, you need to contact Veronica, if you haven’t already,” he continued, “and set up a time to meet up with her. She had exercises and tricks that she learned that might help you out. Barring that, just being out of the city and away from all the city noise might help.”

“Doesn’t she live around here?” Matt asked, surprised. 

“She has an apartment here,” he nodded, “and Lance crashes at her place during the week to get to classes and work easily, but my parents live out west of the city on a farm. You might find that climate easier to deal with.”

“You’re inviting Matt to your home?” Colleen blurted out.

“My parent’s,” the doctor corrected, “and I’ve already checked to make sure they’re alright with it. Mom will be contacting Pidge about training here soon, anyway.”

“This is all highly irregular.” Colleen looked confused, and Matt didn’t blame her.

“The entire supernatural community is highly irregular,” Doctor Espinosa-McClain said bluntly. “But, as it is, we’re a very small community, with a very big secret to hide. We help each other out, and keep each other safe. And even if the Espinosa Coven isn’t technically part of the Shirogane Pack, one of our family is, and that kind of makes us Pack-adjacent. With you being newly bitten and Katie needing a place to learn to control her own talent, that practically makes you unofficial family.”

“Why does Katie  _ need _ to learn to control her talent?” Colleen asked curiously. “Not that I’m against her learning, but why is it a need? She’s been fine up until now.”

“I’ll give you my mom’s email if you’d like; she’s better equipped to address that question than I am.” The doctor gestured towards Matt. “We’ve gotten a bit off course, and I have only another ten minutes before my next patient is escorted back.”

“Alright,” Matt nodded. “What else?”

“How are you feeling?” the doctor asked. “Truthfully.”

“Like shit,” Matt admitted. “Everything aches, my head hurts, and every sight, scent and sound has been cranked up to eleven. I want to go to sleep and just...wake up when it’s over.”

Doctor Espinosa-McClain grimaced. “I can sympathise with that, and I’m sorry we can’t help out more with it, except to tell you everything is normal right now. I would love to have a pain maintenance regimen to put you on, believe me, but right now with everything in flux, anything I put you on will either not work at all or could have serious consequences.”

“Because he’s changing,” Colleen said. “His...metabolism is speeding up, and his base temperature will be higher, Shiro said.”

“Shiro is correct,” the doctor replied. “But it’s doing it at unsteady intervals, which is why your appetite may be coming and going,” he added. “Think of it like a computer; you’re upgrading from a standard model to a gaming model. Everything is running a little faster, a little hotter and a little harder, so your body is working on switching out the parts to accommodate the increase.”

“So the blood pressure and temperature are alright?” Matt asked, even as Colleen’s mouth opened. It shut with a faint click of teeth.

“Yes: normal temperature for most humans is between ninety-seven to ninety-nine degrees Fahrenheit,” Doctor Espinosa-McClain explained, turning to the computer and flicking on the screen, “with the average being the ninety-eight point six that you’re used to hearing. However, most werecreatures tend to run from ninety-eight up to one-oh-two, with the average being about one hundred point five. So you’re right on target, there.”

The doctor paused, fingers clicking across the keyboard as he pulled up a program and typed something into the system. “Your blood pressure is up a bit from when you were discharged from the hospital,” the doctor mused, looking down at the chart in front of him. “And it’s not high, but it’s rising a little faster than I’d like it to—I notice your pulse is a little fast as well. Probably stress, and it will probably even out in the next week or two, but I’d like you to come in next week for a quick check-in to make sure we’re still on track.” 

“Hopefully next week I’ll be able to drive myself,” Matt grumbled.

“Something to aspire to,” the doctor laughed, giving Matt a quick smile even as Colleen shot her son a reproachful look. “But don’t beat yourself up if you’d feel better with a ride, either. Anything else going on that you think I should know about?”

“Not really.” Matt shook his head. 

“Alright then.” The doctor pulled a notepad towards him, writing something down on it and ripping it off before handing it to Colleen. “This is my mother’s contact information: you can ask her about your daughter’s training, or anything else. This,” he added, handing another sheet to Matt, “is Veronica’s information if she didn’t already give it to you. Call her, today, and see when you two can meet up. She might be able to help.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Shiro frowned down at the report in his hand, mentally prepping for the meeting set to start in a little while. Sam had been called away to Victoria for a different meeting—the supplier was trying to swap out the materials agreed upon for higher-priced ones, then wanted to charge more, insisting that it was what they had ordered—and Shiro had been asked to take the lead in briefing Mr. Young (who was, ironically, not young at all) about the status of the current projects for the industrial and retail department. Shiro had also been asked to step into a conversation about a strip mall going up on the outskirts of town because the space required for the trampoline park going in was close enough to his field that he could probably provide some input on the building layout they’d want…

A throat cleared next to him, and Shiro glanced up to see Adam standing warily next to him.

“Can I help you?” he asked coolly. He’d known that Adam was in the room, of course, but he’d been deliberately ignoring him, and had been pleased when the other man had chosen a seat down at the end of the long table. 

“Do you know when Mr. Holt will be back?” Adam asked, equally cool. His suit jacket was pressed and his button-down shirt was tidy, but both had the dusty smell Shiro associated with worksites, and he caught a glimpse of scuffed work boots peeking out from the ankles of slightly wrinkled slacks. 

“He should be back tomorrow,” Shiro said, turning back to his notes.

“Do you know if he’ll be available?” the other man persisted. 

“Am I his secretary?” Shiro snarked, gums itching as the other man’s heart rate ratcheted upwards in response. Being lower than this other Alpha did nothing to soothe his irritation, but Shiro also knew that standing would only draw attention to them from the people trickling in, so he remained seated.

“No, but you’re close to him,” Adam snapped right back, shoving his hands into his pockets—a foolish move, Shiro noted derisively. If this came down to a fight, he would lose precious time pulling his hands out of his pockets while Shiro attacked.

Ruthlessly, Shiro stomped down the urge. 

“—hasn’t been in all week, and I need to talk to him about—”

“You do know why he hasn’t been in, right?” Shiro interrupted. Adam frowned, dark hair shifting against his tan forehead as he peered down at him over the rim of his odd-looking spectacles. 

“No,” he finally said, sounding annoyed, “I don’t know why he hasn’t been in. Why would I?”

Shiro glanced around the room: they still had about ten minutes before the meeting, but there were enough people in the room that somebody would overhear anything Shiro said. Finally, Shiro settled for giving the other Alpha a hard look he hoped could translate, and saying “Sam’s son was the victim of an animal attack when he and his sister were out camping last Friday.”

Adam blinked, and Shiro frowned as his brow furrowed briefly in confusion. Then, Adam’s eyes widened. “An  _ animal—?”  _

“Bit Matt, yes,” Shiro cut in. “Matt required surgery to treat his wounds, and he and his sister have only just been released from the hospital. Sam was staying home because there were some complications with the procedure.”

Shiro watched the other man digest that information in slack-jawed silence for a moment, before offering him a tight-lipped smile. “So. How was  _ your  _ weekend?”

“...Better than Sam’s, apparently,” Adam muttered, sighing and pulling a hand out of his pocket to run it through his hair. “Is his son okay?”

“He’s recovering,” Shiro hedged. Either Adam had missed his implications, or was ignoring them. “It’s just going to take some time.”

“Ohh, is this about Sam’s boy?” Sarah, Mr. Young’s secretary, stopped by the two men, perfume drifting about her in a cloud as she eyed them appreciatively. Shiro returned her smile, accepting the paper she handed him as Adam edged backwards uncomfortably. 

Sarah paid his unease no mind, bright red lips stretching wide as she handed him a copy of the meeting agenda. “I heard about that,” she said. “I thought he was out of the hospital already.”

“He’s been released,” Shiro confirmed, “but he’s still recovering, so he and Mrs. Holt are taking turns helping him out with PT and such.” 

Sarah flicked her freshly dyed hair over her shoulder, subtly revealing the expanse of creamy skin along her collarbones as she nodded thoughtfully. “Mr. Young was going to put out a pool for flowers, but decided against it when he was released from the hospital so quickly. I might approach him again about that, in this case.”

“Maybe,” Shiro shrugged, gaze flickering over her appreciatively. “Personally, I know that he and Colleen are both working, and their daughter is a full time student as well as a barista at The Daily Grind—you know, that little coffee place down by campus?” he asked, watching Adam carefully.

Adam blinked again, then his eyebrows shot up before he gave Shiro a wary look.

Huh. Maybe leaving his hat there  _ hadn’t _ been deliberate. Still, Shiro wasn’t leaving anything to chance—officially Pack or not, Matt  _ and _ Katie were both under his protection. 

“It’s not on my route, but I know of it,” Sarah said, recalling Shiro to the conversation.

“Mm. Well, I think instead of flowers, a hot meal might go a long way,” Shiro continued. “It would give them one less thing to worry about.”

“That’s...not a bad idea,” Sarah mused, looking thoughtful as she shuffled her papers. “Thanks, Takashi. You’re a sweetheart.” She shot him another smile, patting his shoulder as she sashayed away. 

Shiro’s phone started vibrating on the table, and he glanced at it, before picking it up and standing, deliberately crowding the other man back and ignoring the few inches difference between their respective heights. 

“By the way,” he said, offering the other man a smile that probably had too much teeth in it to be called friendly, “you left your hat there the other day. Do you want to get it yourself, or do you want my brother to grab it for you?”

“I’ll get it myself,” Adam gritted out, eyes narrowing.

“Alright,” Shiro stepped past him, absently swiping his thumb across the phone screen to accept the call. “Morning is not really a good time to do that. Afternoons are far better.”

He didn’t even have to turn around to know that Adam was glaring at his back as he lifted the phone to his ear. “Allura. What can I do for you?”

“Shit,” he heard Adam swear quietly in the background as he stepped out of the room.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Pidge didn’t even have time to ring the doorbell before the door swung open. Veronica’s cheerful grin turned wry as she took in Matt standing miserably on the porch wearing noise-cancelling headphones.

“That bad?” she asked sympathetically.

“Everything is  _ so loud, _ ” Matt whined pathetically. “How do you stand it?”

“It gets easier,” Veronica replied, stepping back to usher them inside. “You learn to tone it down, and tune it out. How was your checkup with Luis?”

“Fine.” Matt shrugged. “Everything looks good, I just  _ feel _ like crap.”

“I did too, at first. What is your temperature at?” Veronica asked, leading them through the living room and towards the kitchen. “Do you guys want a drink before we get started?”

“What have you got?” Pidge asked, resting her elbows on the island that divided the kitchen from the dining area.

“Water, soda...some lemonade, too. Oh, and somebody made iced tea.” Veronica pulled the pitcher out of the fridge and set it on a tray before turning to the Holts with her eyebrows raised.

“I’d like some lemonade,” Pidge said, waiting for a beat before nudging her brother with her elbow.

“Oh! Um, just water, thanks,” Matt replied. “Is that lemonade made with real lemons?”

Veronica pulled a stack of cups down from a cupboard, glancing over her shoulder to glance at him approvingly. “Yes, it is. We’ve got a couple trees. Good nose.”

“You can grow lemons in Texas?” Pidge blurted out, then blushed as she realized how rude that probably sounded. “It’s um… sorry. I haven’t really seen that before.”

“You can, though they don’t usually produce until October,” Veronica said, loading cups onto a tray. Eyeing Matt a second time, she added a sleeve of crackers, a container of cheese slices, and a chilled summer sausage to a plate and set it on the tray. Nodding approvingly to herself, she picked the entire thing up and made for the back door.

“So, how did you get these, then?” Pidge asked, following the other woman along the island, reaching to open the back door for her when she paused.

“We’ve got an in with the local Dryads,” Mrs. McClain answered from her place at the patio table. Next to her, a dark-haired woman waved genially. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Pidge replied, Matt echoing her as he stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you for asking.” Estella nodded, gesturing to the woman next to her. “You may remember Daphne from the other day.”

“Nurse O’Hara?” Matt looked confused.

“Oh, call me Daphne when I’m not on duty,” Daphne replied cheerfully. “Feeling any better, Matt?”

“Um, no, not really,” Matt admitted, sinking into a chair and grimacing as he pointed at the headphones he was still wearing. 

“Hmm.” Daphne frowned at him consideringly. “If your temperature goes past one hundred and one, I want you to come in or call me.”

“What is your temperature at now?” Pidge asked her brother, feeling a little alarmed. Matt hadn’t answered Veronica when she’d asked the question earlier.

“Ninety-nine, at the moment,” Matt replied, nodding in thanks as Veronica set a glass of water in front of him.

“Is that normal?” Pidge asked, reaching for her own cup.

“It actually is,” Daphne said, sipping her tea. “Werecreatures in general run two to five degrees higher than a human.”

“Why is that?” Pidge asked.

“The enhanced senses, the accelerated healing, the immunity to most illnesses, all come at a cost,” Daphne explained patiently, picking up the small knife and cutting the sausage. “In order to support all of that, their systems run higher, hotter and faster.”

“Like a computer,” Pidge mused, watching as Daphne slid the sliced sausage back across the table towards them. 

“A lot like,” Daphne nodded, pleased with the analogy. “The body will regulate itself, but the first few weeks can be stressful, especially when you toss in the fact that he’s healing from a major injury.”

“So what’s a fever to anybody else is totally normal for weres.” Pidge hummed. “Interesting.”

“Interesting, yes,” Estella interrupted, “but something to discuss later, since we only have a little while. Matt, you and Veronica are going with Daphne, and Pidge, you’ll be with me.”

“We’re being split up?” Pidge asked suspiciously. Matt frowned next to her, sifting uneasily in his seat.

Estella blinked, lips quirking. “We can keep you within sight of each other, if you prefer. But you two have different things to learn, so yes, you’re being split up for now.”

Pidge bit her lip. “Don’t I need to know werewolf stuff too?”

“Matt can catch you up later.” Estella said firmly. “Luis and Shiro are also talking to your parents, who you can ask. And if all else fails, ask Lance.”

“Lance?” Pidge asked, trailing after the other woman as she rose from the table and headed into the yard.

“Much as Veronica has been in Matt’s shoes, Lance has been in yours,” The older woman smiled down at her as they walked. Pidge made an understanding noise in her throat.

“Where is he, anyway?” She asked as Estella settled them down in the grass near a small copse of trees. 

“He usually lives in the city with Veronica during the week. She got an apartment with a second bedroom, and he helps out with rent and bills. Life of a college student,” she explained, laughing lightly. “His clothes are stored in a few closets.”

“Mom complains that Matt only comes home to wash his clothes,” Pidge said.

“And eat!” Matt called from where he and Veronica were sitting next to an elaborate shed. Daphne was kicked back in a chair nearby, sniggering as she stared at her phone screen.

“And eat,” Pidge added obligingly. “Mom says she’ll take what she can get, but she'd prefer I didn’t move out until I was at least thirty.” Pidge pulled a face.

“The life of a parent,” Estella said wryly. “Aside from Marcos, my babies have all left the nest. My parents still live with us, though, so that makes things seem a little less empty.”

“Marcos?”

“Lance and Veronica’s elder brother,” Estella replied. As Pidge’s brow furrowed, she said “I have four children. Luis is the eldest, followed by Marcos, Veronica, and Lance is my baby. Luis and Veronica live in the city, Marcos lives here but works in the town nearby, and Lance is...a part-time resident.”

“Are they all witches?” Pidge asked. “Or...wizards? Mages. Sorcerers?”

Estella laughed. “A lot of ways to say ‘uses magic’, right?”

“Yes,” Pidge said. “Trying to remember which witch is which can get frustrating.”

“Witch and Wizard are good generic terms,” Estella reassured her. “It’s like… Oh, calling somebody a Christian. There’s a lot of denominations that fall under that umbrella who still count.”

“Just don’t confuse your Catholics for your Baptists,” Pidge muttered.

“Exactly so,” Estella smirked. “My family is historically made up of Mages — that is to say, our energies are primarily centered around an element, and we have an easier time manipulating magic or working spells that have to do with the element we specialize in.”

“And Lance is...water?” Pidge asked, head tilting curiously. 

“He is.” Estella nodded.

“What about the rest of you?” Pidge asked curiously.

Lance’s mother opened her mouth to reply, then closed it and smiled mischievously. “I think I’ll let you figure that out for yourself. In the meantime, we need to figure out what type of magic user  _ you _ are, don’t you think?”

Pidge shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I mean...not to doubt Lance’s shocking grasp, but I’ve never done anything magical in my life.”

Estella shrugged. “Can you speak Russian?”

“Um.” Pidge blinked. “No.”

“But do you have the capacity to learn to speak Russian?” 

“I guess,” Pidge answered, confused. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“And if you, say, lived in Russia, or just visited, do you think you might learn a bit of it to help get by? And perhaps another phrase or two while you’re there?” Estella asked.

“Probably,” Pidge answered. “But what does speaking Russian have to do with magic?”

“Nothing at all,” Estella said. “I was just proving a point. Just because you haven’t done something before, doesn’t mean you don’t have the capacity to do it, if you want to.”

“Huh,” Pidge muttered, then frowned. “But that’s not universally true. Anybody could learn to speak another language, but magical ability is inherited, and not learned.”

“That’s also true,” Estella nodded. “But we know that you  _ do _ have the ability, even if you haven’t seen evidence of it before. Have you been reading the books Lance gave you?”

“Yes.”

“Any questions so far?”

“I have a list,” Pidge said dryly. 

“Let’s start with the easy ones, then.” Estella laughed.

“Zodiac signs,” Pidge said bluntly. “That makes no sense. And how does that work for people who don’t follow the Western Astrological chart?”

Estella blinked. “That was your easy one?”

“No,” Pidge admitted, “but it’s the one that’s been bothering me. The two-element thing has been, too.”

“I don’t know why the zodiac signs work, just that they do,” Estella replied. “Without fail, every magic user has had one of their specialties be the element associated with their zodiac sign. It works also in Eastern cultures, and there’s a lot of crossover between the two systems. They don’t have Air the way we do, but Wood is similar.”

“That makes no sense,” Pidge complained. “Why does my birthday become my element? Shouldn’t it be decided by my personality, or how I was raised? What about babies who are premature, or late? Do they fall under when they are born, or when they’re supposed to be born? What about Asian children who are adopted by American families? Which system do they fall under? Is it determined by their heritage, or their environment?”

Estella bit her lip. “You must be Air.”

Pidge gaped at her. “How could you tell that?”

Estella snorted. “And to answer your questions… Your element is decided by when you are born, not when you were supposed to be born. There have been case studies on the differences between systems and how they work, as well as people who were born under one and raised in another. I’ll see about getting them to you later on, but for now we should focus on  _ you _ , and finding out  _ your _ abilities.”

“You just said Air,” Pidge pointed out.

“When is your birthday?” Estella asked.

“February 2nd,” Pidge replied.

Estella’s eyes narrowed consideringly. “Aquarius is Air.”

“I was two months premature,” Pidge offered. “I was supposed to be born April 2nd.”

“Fire  _ could _ be your secondary,” Estella conceded with a shrug. “ We’ll have to see. Have you been meditating?”

“Kind of,” Pidge said. “Why do people have two elements, but can only use one?”

Estella shook her head. “That’s not true. A lot of general witches — hedge witches — use both of their elements in their workings. One is usually stronger than the other, like being right-handed or left-handed. It’s a little different for elemental mages, like my family tends to be, because we tend to have one element that we’re naturally strong with, and then have to work to use the others.”

“Why?”

“My mother used to say it was to remind us to be humble,” Estella said. “We have gifts that others don’t, but weaknesses and failings to keep us human. The essential need to balance within ourselves is a struggle that everyone shares.”

“But why two? Why not all four? And how are they chosen?”

“Anyone can work with any element, given time, training, and dedication,” Estella said. “They have two they are naturally disposed towards — no, I don’t know how they’re chosen. Zodiac signs, as you’ve seen, play a factor, and there’s some evidence to suggest the other is inherited, but sometimes you’ll see children whose affinities seem to be completely random.”

“And I find mine by...meditating?” Pidge squinted at the older woman suspiciously.

“Since you’re an adult, yes, we can do guided meditation to help you find your element. If you were a child,” Estella said, obviously anticipating the question, “then we would simply let you play with other magical children, and see what developed.”

“Alright,” Pidge forced herself away from thoughts of how a Metal Mage would work (and could she be one of those? It would make life a lot easier, maybe) and back to the woman in front of her. “What’s first?”

“I want you to take off your shoes and socks, and close your eyes.” Estella instructed. “Meditation is about becoming cognizant of your body and examining what is within yourself. Learning about your magic is much the same. Now, inhale to four, then exhale to four. Focus on your breath as it enters and exits your lungs. Begin.”

Pidge toed off her shoes and stuffed the socks into them, before setting them aside and crossing her legs, straightening into what she hoped was an attentive posture before obediently closing her eyes.

“Now, breathe,” Estella instructed. “I want you to focus first on your breath, the way the air feels as it moves into your lungs. Feel them expand, feel your chest rise… and exhale. Feel the way your lungs push the air out, and how it leaves your body. Again.”

Gritting her teeth, Pidge did.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“First things first,” Veronica said as she sat him down across from him on the blanket Daphne had spread out, “how are you feeling?”

“Pretty awful,” Matt admitted with a grimace. “Everything is just  _ too much _ . My head is throbbing and my stomach feels like it’s trying to twist itself in knots. I woke up at two this morning hearing gunshots, only to realize it was  _ my next door neighbor’s tv.  _ Apparently Mr. Jones likes westerns and is an insomniac, who knew?”

“Well, now  _ you _ know.” Veronica smirked, but the tone wasn’t unsympathetic. “And I’m sorry; I know how exhausting the continual sensory overload can be. How’s your sense of smell?”

“Ramped up to nine thousand,” Matt groused. “But it’s not as bad as the need to rub myself all over everyone I know. Not like  _ that, _ ” he hurried on, “but I saw my sister this afternoon and she smelled like everybody else, and I wanted her to smell like  _ me. _ ”

“I get what you mean.” Veronica smiled fondly. “When I was first bitten—and even now, really—I practically attacked anyone who walked in the door. I was a teenage serial snuggler. My parents didn’t mind, and Lance was young enough that hugs from his older sister were still acceptable as long as none of his friends saw, but Luis and Marco were  _ baffled. _ And I couldn’t explain it, either. The Garrett’s understood more, but they weren’t my pack, so it didn’t help much.”

“Pidge let me hug her today, but I think she’s still shaken over what happened,” Matt mused. “She’s not normally big on physical affection.”

“Luis wasn’t either,” Veronica admitted. “It took a while for them to understand that it was something I  _ needed _ . Pidge is going to have to learn to deal with it, too—wolves in particular are very tactile. It comes with being part of the pack.”

“I thought Shiro said I didn’t have to decide whether I wanted to be part of the pack yet,” Matt said warily.

“You don’t,” Veronica replied, shaking her head. “But if Keith and Pidge work out, then she’s in for a lot of casual contact, even if Keith isn’t the most expressive person around.”

Matt blinked. “What?” 

Veronica’s brow furrowed. “Keith and Pidge? Was I not supposed to call her Pidge? Lance said it was reserved for friends.”

“Not that,” Matt said, waving his hand dismissively, “what about Keith and my sister?”

Even he heard the growl in his words.

Veronica eyed him warily. “Keith...asked her on a date?”

Matt scowled. “When did this happen?”

Veronica shrugged. “The other day, I guess. Lance said that they were supposed to go somewhere this week, but Keith isn’t sure if she still wants to, considering everything that’s happened. I take it you didn’t know about this.”

“No.” Matt sighed. “I guess my darling sister has some explaining to do.”

Veronica shrugged. “That’s between the two of you. But for what it’s worth, Keith is a good guy.”

“It’s not that I mind, exactly.” Matt glanced down, frowning. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Well, you can ask her later,” Veronica said. “For now, we need to focus on helping you get a hold of your senses. I bet the headaches and stuff will calm down once you can sort everything out.”

“Alright,” Matt said, rubbing his forehead as Veronica leaned forward and slipped the headphones off. Matt grimaced as the overwhelming influx of sounds returned. 

“Close your eyes,” Veronica instructed. “Now, I want you to work on isolating sounds— _ and then ignoring them. _ Okay?”

“Alright,” Matt mumbled.

“Listen to the breeze,” Veronica said softly. “Really pay attention to it.”

Matt frowned, trying to sift through the distant rumble of traffic, the buzzing of insects, and then concentrate on the vague, intermittent sound of the breeze as it sifts across the grass of the back yard, and rustles the leaves on the trees. 

“Got it?”

“Yeah,” Matt mumbled. The sound was actually kind of soothing.

“Now tell me about the bugs,” Veronica says.

Matt grimaced, but did as instructed. It wasn’t like it was  _ difficult _ —the buzzing, humming and chirping were incessant. 

“Tell me about them.” Veronica repeated.

“They’re aggravating,” Matt promptly replied.

Veronica chuckled. “Maybe. But how many different ones can you  _ hear? _ ”

“Um…” Matt pauses to concentrate. “Cicadas. Some bees maybe? It’s just higher or lower pitched buzzing. Crickets maybe, around the house. Why do you have so many birds?”

“It’s a farm,” Veronica replied. “There’s lots of food, and places to nest. Plus, they help by spreading seeds for fruit and stuff they’ve eaten, and fertilizing soil. Dad has a few hives in the fields as well. Tell me about Pidge.”

“Short, annoying, breathing,” Matt rattled off. “Your mom is trying to get her to meditate. I think I can hear her teeth grinding.”

“It’s a pretty basic beginning skill.” Veronica sounded amused. “It teaches you to access your magic—or your inner werecreature, actually. We all have to learn it, but that doesn’t mean it’s the easiest thing to master.”

“Particularly if you’re Pidge,” Matt sniggered.

“How does your sister smell?” Veronica asked.

Matt quirked an eyebrow silently. “That question isn’t as strange as it probably should be,” he observed wryly. “She smells like she showered this morning, but then ran through a pile of pollutants.”

“What kind?” Veronica asked. “The breeze is blowing towards us, so you should be able to get a good hit of her. Where has she been?”

“Um,” Matt frowned as he tried to shift his focus. “She smells like coffee—not really surprising, she works at a coffee house. And she’s always smelled like coffee? But now she  _ really _ smells like coffee. Her car has some kind of citrus air freshener in it. She smells...hot?” Matt shook his head in frustration as he tried to voice how he could smell the fact that Pidge had walked across campus in the heat, and that smell was on her skin.

“Kind of sun-baked. A bit of tar and asphalt, some sweat, the scent that skin gets when it’s been in the sun a while,” Veronica supplied. “Good. What else?”

“A lot of other people, probably from her class. Or work,” Matt added, inhaling as he tried to separate out the different scents lingering around his sister... “Kind of...metallic.”

“Magic has a kind of metallic scent to it,” Veronica offered. “She could be accessing her magic.”

“She also works with metals a lot,” Matt replied. “She’s primarily interested in programming, but she likes to build, too. Her room has a lot of spare parts and some soldering equipment and stuff in it.”

“It could be that, too,” Veronica mused. “Okay. How about my mom?”

Matt frowned, then shook his head. “I know she’s there. I can hear her breathing and talking, but I...can’t really smell her?”

“Try,” Veronica encouraged. 

“She smells...like a lot of things.” Matt’s brow furrowed as he tried to parse out the different scents. “Like a lot of  _ people _ . Some...incense? Maybe?” He shook his head, frustrated. “That’s all I can get.”

“Alright. Open your eyes.” Veronica waited until Matt was looking at her before she sent him an encouraging smile. “Now, why do you think you could smell your sister much better than my mother?”

Matt considered. “Because I’m more familiar with Pidge? Even if human noses aren’t as good as werewolf ones, they still  _ work _ . Pidge has smelled like coffee since she started working at a coffee shop. It’s not that I didn’t notice it before, it just wasn’t as strong.”

“True,” Veronica said, nodding. “But I’m betting that if you concentrated, or if you were closer, you could smell even more things. Those are just the...top notes, if you will. Now, why don’t you think you could smell my mother as well?”

“She’s...further away?” Matt tried, shrugging.

“Only by a few feet,” Veronica pointed out. “I can tell you that she smells like Altea Books—I can smell books and food from the cafe—but also that she had a meeting with other local practitioners today—their scents are familiar, and I can smell ozone and incense from the ritual they did.” 

“You’ve been a wolf longer,” Matt pointed out. “And you said the scents are familiar. You’ve had practice identifying them.”

“Yeah, but that’s not it. Or, not entirely,” Veronica said. “My mom is part of my Pack, just like your sister is part of yours. Pack scents are the first ones you learn, and they’ll be the easiest to remember and track.”

“Pack…” Matt glanced at Pidge, who seemed to have finally settled into her meditation. 

“As an added bonus, I’ve been speaking at a normal volume for a while now,” Veronica added cheerfully. Matt blinked, startled, his gaze snapping back to hers. Veronica winked impudently.

“Wha—?  _ How..?” _ Matt flailed his hands in her direction. 

Veronica laughed and Daphne, still sitting in her chair, snorted at her phone.

“What kind of voodoo do you do, woman?” Matt demanded.

“Not voodoo.” Veronica grinned. “Just getting you to focus on one thing. Eventually, you’ll learn to ignore all the extra stimulus, but until then any time you get overwhelmed, pick one sense and focus on that. Just like we did with sounds: focus on identifying individual ones, and pick those apart as much as you can. Give your brain  _ one _ thing to focus on, and everything else will kind of fade to tolerable levels.” 

“Huh,” Matt muttered, leaning back as he considered that tidbit. “Nice trick.”

“You’re welcome.” Veronica grinned, adding wryly, “I had to figure that one out on my own. All of the others are born weres, so this was never an issue for them. They thought I was absolutely crazy for wearing noise-cancelling headphones, or using a mask to try to dull down smells.”

“How did you deal with it?” Matt cringed.

“Keith’s mom was a big help, actually. Her and Thace,” Veronica replied. “They came down for a weekend when I was first bitten and helped sort things out.”

“I bet it helped that your parents at least knew about...all this,” Matt said, waving his hands expansively, trying to indicate the  _ everythingness _ of it all.

“I was lucky in that regard,” Veronica agreed. “My parents knew exactly what had happened and who to call for help.”

“And we’re lucky you guys were there,” Matt murmured. He cleared his throat, and offered Veronica a grateful smile. “Things would have been a lot worse if your...group hadn't been nearby. So, thank you.”

Veronica shrugged. “That’s what friends—or Pack—are for.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this chapter, one thing to note is that when Luis said that Matt was the “fourth victim in ten months” he was wrong. Matt is actually the 5th victim, but the first (a little girl in Port Charles, LA) was three years ago and will (probably) remain undiscovered.
> 
> If you’re asking “where is Rachel?” please know that I actually started writing this before season 7 premiered, and I didn’t know the name/gender of Lance’s siblings. So I made it up. I thought about going back and changing it, but...I’m kind of attached to Luis and Marcos. :) You’ll meet Marcos and his daughter Madison in chapter 16.
> 
> Finally, some answers about magic and balance, right? Pidge has _all the questions_ and unfortunately, I don’t have all the answers. I wrestled with that for a while, but in the end, it’s kind of like a lot of other long-held societal norms: they have a basis and a reason, but they’re not infallible or universally applicable...even if people generally act like they are.
> 
> She’s getting a lot of slack with the questions right now because she’s new and people are happy to explain to her the way things work. However, a lot of general societal norms just _can’t_ be logically explained down to the nitty gritty — sometimes the answer is just “because this is the way it’s always worked” — and if she keeps pushing past a certain point, she’s going to come off as rude and disrespectful. She’s going to make people uncomfortable. And while that’s not a bad thing, it’s not an easy place to be.
> 
> Also, huge thank you to Captain Lily-Bug who double-checked all my medical babble and made sure it mostly made sense. That being said, I am clearly not a doctor, and I am making everything up. Like, so hard. I have no idea what I’m doing.
> 
> And last, I apologize for slow updates. Things have gotten _manic_ at my house. My cup runneth over, as the saying goes.


End file.
